„  0|  CaW 
University  o» 

IRVINE 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

IRVINE 

Gift  of 
THE  HONNOLD  LIBRARY 


MRS.  MARY  GRINNELL  DEAD. 

Three    of    Her    Family    Were    Killed 
by  German  Gun  in  Paris  Church. 

Serial  to  The  \rtc  Tork  Times.l 
WASHINGTON',  April  24. -Word  has 
been  received  of  the  death  in  Paris  on 
last  Sunday  of  Mrs  Mary  Morton  Grin- 
neM.  widow  of  William  F.  Grinnell  and 
sister  of  ox-Governor  Levi  P.  Morton. 
Mr.  Grinnell.  formerly  of  New  York, 
was  for  twenty-five  years  in  the  Amer- 
ican I'onsular  Service,  and  held  im- 
portant consulates  In  France  and  Eng- 

Mrs.  Grimirtl's  death  was  probably 
caused  bv  the  shock  of  the  tragedy  of 
Good  Friday  last,  when  her  daughter. 
Mrs.  E.  H.  Landon,  and  her  grand- 
daughters,  Mrs.  Ralph  Speed  and  Miss 
Ruth  lyflndon.  were  killed  in  a  church 
In  Paris  by  the  long-range  Prussian  gun. 


RECOLLECTIONS 

^^^— ••» 

OF 

A  HAPPY  LIFE 


ELIZABETH  CHRISTOPHERSAHOBSON 


WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION 

BY 
LOUISA   LEE  SCHUYLER 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 
NEW    YORK   AND    LONDON 

ZTbe  Imfcfcerbocfcer  press 
1917 


ar 


COPYRIGHT,  1916,  BY 
G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

Second  Impression 


INTRODUCTION 

TO  THE    FIRST   PUBLISHED    EDITION 

A  N  unfinished  autobiography!  An  unknown 
/*  author!  How  came  this  little  book  to 
be  written?  How  came  it  to  be  published? 

In  the  Preface  to  the  edition  printed  for 
private  circulation,  which  follows  these  few 
lines,  will  be  found  the  story  of  how  the  book 
came  to  be  written.  As  for  publication — 
nothing  more  remote  could  have  entered  the 
mind  of  the  gifted  hostess,  as  she  told  her 
charming  tales  of  life,  love,  and  adventure  to 
the  friends  gathered  about  her  tea  table  in  Bar 
Harbor,  or  who  sat  with  her  in  Washington 
over  a  blazing  wood-fire  on  a  winter's  night. 
Not  without  much  persuasion  could  Mrs. 
Hobson  be  finally  induced  to  commit  her 
"story-telling"  to  paper.  The  writing  once 
begun,  she  became  interested  in  it;  but  the 


iv  INTRODUCTION 

work  was  never  completed.  Much,  alas!  had 
been  left  unsaid,  when  Death — that  unwelcome 
guest — came  to  stay  the  pen  in  hand. 

At  first  the  manuscript  was  thought  too 
personal  to  be  printed,  even  for  private  use, 
but  finally  it  was  decided  to  print,  with  some 
omissions  and  for  private  circulation  only, 
a  small,  limited  edition  of  the  book.  Grad- 
ually, the  much-worn  copies  found  their  way, 
as  loans,  into  the  hands  of  persons  who  had  not 
known  Mrs.  Hobson,  to  be  returned  with  the 
invariable  request  that  the  book  might  be 
published.  And  this  from  men  and  women 
whose  literary  judgment  is  undisputed,  and 
who  fully  recognize  the  fragmentary  character 
of  the  work ;  but  who  also  recognize  the  excep- 
tional personality,  as  well  as  the  literary  ability 
of  the  unknown  author. 

It  is  now  four  years  since  Mrs.  Hobson  died, 
in  her  eighty-first  year.  Many  of  those  of 
whom  she  has  written  have  passed  away;  the 
consent  of  other  friends  and  of  her  family 
to  the  publication  of  the  memoirs  has  been 
obtained;  the  only  condition  made  by  the 
latter  being  that  any  profits  derived  shall  be 
used  for  the  benefit  of  some  one  of  the  phil- 
anthropic objects  in  which  Mrs.  Hobson  was 


INTRODUCTION  v 

interested.*  Finally,  one  of  the  leading  pub- 
lishing houses,  the  senior  member  of  which 
had  enjoyed  Mrs.  Hobson's  hospitality  in 
Washington,  and  had  knowledge  of  her  active 
and  valuable  services  in  the  fight  for  inter- 
national copyright  of  many  years  ago,  has 
placed  its  imprint  upon  the  book. 

And  so  it  has  come  to  pass  that  the  Recol- 
lections of  a  Happy  Life  is  now  given  to  the 
public. 

However  tempting  the  theme  may  be,  I 
shall  refrain  from  giving  any  account  of  Mrs. 
Hobson,  of  her  New  England  heritage,  her 
married  life  in  South  America,  her  various 
social  and  philanthropic  interests  and  achieve- 
ments in  New  York  and  Washington,  of  the 
winters  spent  in  Italy  and  on  the  Bosphorus. 
She  tells  it  all  so  well  herself,  and  any  added 
word  of  mine  would  only  spoil  the  charm. 
For  it  is  charm — that  indescribable,  elusive 
quality — which  permeates  this  simple,  direct, 
and  unpretending  little  narrative. 

And  here — well  may  one  pause!  For  how 
can  one  write  of  a  life  so  replete  with  happiness, 
while  the  deep  undertone  of  war,  the  suffering, 
the  desolation,  the  horror  of  this  great  Euro- 

*  The  Bellevue  Training  School  for  Nurses  has  been  selected. 


vi  INTRODUCTION 

pean  struggle,  is  forever  sounding  and  resound- 
ing from  the  depths  below.  How  can  we  for 
one  moment  not  remember  the  tragedy  of 
Belgium,  that  gallant  little  country,  whose  hero- 
ism has  made  her  name  immortal,  so  cruelly 
trampled  under  foot,  so  certain  to  come  into 
her  own  again.  England  and  France ! — names 
not  to  be  mentioned  without  a  thrill  of  ad- 
miration and  sympathy — those  two  great 
nations,  righting  side  by  side  in  behalf  of 
freedom,  justice,  and  humanity,  for  the  rights 
and  liberties  of  the  smaller,  weaker  states  of 
Europe,  for  civilization  itself.  Opposed  to 
them  stand  military  imperialism,  the  lust  of 
conquest,  the  passion  which  aims  at  world- 
wide domination,  the  violation  of  all  principles 
of  honor  and  humanity,  a  descent  even  to  the 
warfare  of  those  barbarous  countries  which, 
by  government  decree,  authorize  the  murder 
and  persecution  of  non-combatants.  The 
lines  are  clearly  drawn. 

To  those  who  had  the  privilege  of  knowing 
the  writer  of  this  autobiography,  no  assurance 
is  needed  as  to  where  her  sympathies  would 
have  lain  had  she  been  with  us  today,  nor  of 
her  advocacy  of  the  principles  of  righteousness 
and  justice.  •  And  those  qualities  which  have 


INTRODUCTION  vii 

made  her  so  beloved,  her  efforts  in  behalf  of 
the  oppressed,  and  her  warm  heart  would 
most  certainly  have  found  her  enrolled  in  that 
great  army  of  her  country-women  whose  time 
and  thought,  for  the  past  two  years,  have  been 
devoted  to  the  relief  of  suffering  caused  by 
the  war. 

As  it  is — what  does  our  frend  give  us  today  ? 
A  bit  of  sunshine  thrown  across  the  back- 
ground of  a  dark  and  ominous  cloud,  the 
sound  of  running  waters,  the  sparkle  of  the 
sea,  a  murmur  of  gay,  young  voices — an  hour's 
respite  from  the  sadness  of  today,  an  hour  of 
rest,  of  solace,  of  happiness,  from  which  we 
return  to  take  up  our  lives,  refreshed  and 
strengthened. 


LOUISA  LEE  SCHUYLER. 


HIGHLAND  FALLS,'  N.  Y. 
July  is,  1916. 


PREFACE  TO  THE  FIRST  EDITION 
PRINTED  FOR  PRIVATE  CIRCULATION 

To  those  friends  of  Mrs.  Joseph  Hobson 
who,  several  years  ago,  signed  a  petition  asking 
her  to  write  her  memoirs. 

MANY  of  us  will  remember  how  often  we 
have  asked  Mrs.  Hobson  to  write  her 
memoirs,  to  put  on  paper  some  account  of 
her  various  experiences, — those  sparkling  anec- 
dotes, those  interesting  narratives — which  we, 
who  have  had  the  privilege  of  her  delightful 
companionship,  have  so  greatly  enjoyed. 

We  received  but  little  encouragement. 
Mrs.  Hobson,  in  full  health  and  vigor  not- 
withstanding her  seventy  odd  years,  was 
actively  engaged  in  various  pursuits,  both 
grave  and  gay.  She  "had  not  time" -—  "she 
had  nothing  of  interest  to  say"  —"there  are 
so  many  memoirs  not  worth  reading." 

Finally,  Mrs.  Richard  Aldrich  conceived 
the  happy  idea  of  putting  into  verse  a  "Peti- 
tion," a  petition  which,  signed  by  twenty-four 
of  Mrs.  Hobson's  friends,  was  sent  to  her,  in 
the  spring  of  1907.* 

*  A  copy  of  these  verses,  with  the  signatures,  will  be  found  in 
the  Appendix. 

ix 


x  PREFACE 

This  determined  her  to  make  the  attempt. 
She  became  interested,  and  often  spoke  dur- 
ing the  last  years  of  her  life  of  the  pleasure 
it  had  given  her  to  write  these  "  Recollections 
of  a  Happy  Life,"  as  she  called  them.  "For 
I  have  had  a  happy  life,"  she  would  say. 

Occasionally  she  would  read  to  her  friends 
one  or  two  of  the  chapters,  as  she  wrote  them. 
"What  do  you  mean  to  do  with  them?"  she 
was  asked  one  day.  "I  mean  to  leave  them 
to  all  of  you  who  have  asked  me  to  write 
them,"  was  the  prompt  reply.  "You  may 
do  anything  you  like  with  them." 

And  now  the  time  has  come.  The  bright 
spirit,  brave  and  cheerful  in  death  as  in  life, 
has  passed  on  to  another  world.* 


Desirous  of  carrying  out  her  wishes,  Mrs. 
Hobson's  family  handed  over  to  "those  who 
had  asked  her  to  write  them"  the  manuscript 
of  the  memoirs,  to  be  disposed  of  as  they 
might  deem  best. 

Those  who  were  present  well  remember  the 
little  gathering  of  friends,  coming  some  of 
them  from  Washington,  who  met  in  New 
York  on  the  7th  of  March,  1913,  to  decide 

*  Mrs.  Hobson  died  in  Bar  Harbor,  Maine,  June  11,  1912,  in 
her  eighty-first  year. 


PREFACE  xi 

upon  the  disposition  of  the  manuscript.  It 
was  more  of  a  memorial  than  a  business  meet- 
ing. The  first  and  last  pages  of  the  memoirs 
were  read,  with  extracts  from  Mrs.  Hobson's 
last  letters,  while  many  loved  to  recall  the 
last  time  they  had  seen  her  and  to  speak  ten- 
derly and  gratefully  of  the  friend  they  had 
lost. 

In  regard  to  the  memoirs.  All  present  were 
desirous  of  having  them  preserved  in  perma- 
nent form,  all  conceded  a  high  order  of  literary 
merit,  and  several  advocated  immediate  pub- 
lication. But  the  consensus  of  opinion  was 
that  they  were  too  personal  for  publication — 
certainly  not  for  many  years  to  come,  not 
until  the  chief  actors  had  passed  away — but 
that  a  small  number  of  copies,  printed  by  her 
friends  for  private  circulation  among  them- 
selves, would  be  more  satisfactory  and  appro- 
priate. This  was  also  known  to  be  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  wishes  of  Mrs.  Hobson's 
family.  The  conclusions  finally  reached  were : 
that  an  edition  of  the  memoirs,  limited  to  two 
hundred  and  fifty  copies,  should  be  printed  for 
private  circulation  under  the  name  of  "Recol- 
lections of  a  Happy  Life,"  this  being  the  name 
already  chosen  for  them  by  Mrs.  Hobson; 
that  the  edition  should  be  simple  in  form,  not 


arii  PREFACE 

an  edition-de-luxe;  that  the  book  should  not 
be  sold,  all  copies  to  be  given  gratuitously, 
and  all  expenses  defrayed  by  those  for  whom 
the  manuscript  had  been  written.  It  was  also 
decided,  that  the  three  so-called  "  philanthropic 
chapters,"  owing  to  their  public  interest,  should 
be  reprinted  for  wider  gratuitous  circulation, 
more  especially  among  "  First  Aid  "  and  other 
social  service  workers  and  to  be  given  to  the 
libraries  of  Training  Schools  for  Nurses. *f 

Miss  Schuyler  was  requested  to  edit  the 
memoirs ;  after  which  the  meeting  adjourned. 

The  editor  was  at  once  confronted  by  a 
serious  difficulty.  One  of  Mrs.  Hobson's 

*  These  three  chapters  are:  "The  Founding  of  the  Bellevue 
Training  School  for  Nurses,"  "First  Aid  to  the  Injured"  and 
"Southern  Trip." 

f  The  original  plan  of  printing  a  separate  edition  of  these 
three  chapters  has  been  abandoned,  owing  to  the  publication 
of  the  entire  book,  which  includes  them. 

The  modern  training  school  for  nurses,  founded  by  Florence 
Nightingale,  dates  from  the  opening  of  the  Nightingale  School 
in  St.  Thomas'  Hospital,  London,  on  the  24th  of  June,  1860. 
It  was  not  until  thirteen  years  later  that  the  Nightingale 
system  was  introduced  into  this  country  by  the  opening, 
May  1, 1873,  of  the  Bellevue  Training  School,  known,  for  this 
reason,  as  "  the  first  training  school  for  nurses  in  this  country." 
The  Nightingale  system  is  now  adopted  by  all  our  large 
hospitals,  in  the  organization  of  their  training  schools,  and  is 
the  accepted  standard.  It  is  believed  that  Mrs.  Hobson's  ac- 
count of  the  organization  of  the  Bellevue  School  will  be  found 
of  especial  interest  to  the  members  of  the  nursing  pro- 
fession, who  also  owe  to  Miss  Nightingale  the  elevation  of  the 
nursing  service  into  a  profession.  Copies  of  this  book  will 
be  found  in  the  libraries  of  the  principal  training  schools. — 
Editor,  1916. 


PREFACE  xiii 

marked  characteristics  was  her  devotion  and 
loyalty  to  her  friends.  She  was  never  known 
to  speak  disparagingly  of  one  to  the  other; 
she  loved  to  be  with  them  (as  they  with  her) ; 
she  made  time  for  them.  She  exaggerated 
their  good  qualities  and  minimized  their  weak- 
nesses in  all  sincerity  and  good  faith.  Natu- 
rally, after  reading  the  manuscript,  one  after 
the  other  of  those  mentioned  came  to  the 
editor  to  say  that,  much  as  they  valued  the 
generous,  warm-hearted  tribute  of  their  friend, 
the  over-estimation  was  such  that,  so  far  as 
they  were  concerned,  that  particular  para- 
graph must  be  omitted  from  the  printed  copy. 
What  was  to  be  done?  The  memoirs  were 
made  up  of  personalities  from  beginning  to 
end.  If  all  were  omitted,  there  would  be 
nothing  left.  And  so,  with  much  reluctance, 
it  was  mutually  agreed  that,  while  each  would 
make  allowances  for  the  over-estimation  of 
themselves  and  others,  it  would  be  best  to  let 
the  pages  stand  as  she,  out  of  her  warm,  gen- 
erous heart,  had  written  them,  to  be  printed 
in  the  very  limited,  private  edition  only. 

One  other  matter  requires  mention.  An 
erroneous  impression  has  been  received  that, 
owing  to  the  fragmentary  character  of  parts  of 
the  narrative,  much  has  been  omitted.  This  is 


xiv  PREFACE 

not  so.  It  is  true  that  Mrs.  Hobson's  family 
has  very  properly  withheld  certain  portions, 
which  were  too  personal  for  even  private 
printing  at  this  time.  But  this  in  no  wise 
affects  the  literary  merit  of  the  memoirs  as 
they  stand.  Mrs.  Hobson  was  not  an  author. 
She  never  wrote  for  publication — beyond  phil- 
anthropic reports.  She  wrote  these  mem- 
oirs at  the  urgent  request  of  her  friends  and 
as  time  served  during  the  last  years  of  a  very 
busy  life.  The  surprise  is  that  so  much  was 
written.  She  did  not  write  consecutively,  a 
chapter  here  and  there  as  the  fancy  took  her, 
writing  as  she  expressed  it  "from  the  point  of 
the  pen,  just  as  the  incidents  crowded  into  my 
mind,"  without  books  of  reference  or  any 
attempts  at  serious  work,  but  simply  "  recol- 
lections "  as  she  called  them.  Some  of  the 
chapters  are  full  and  rounded,  others  were 
begun  and  not  finished,  others  are  fragments. 
The  headings  of  the  chapters  are  hers,  but  not 
the  sequence,  and  but  few  dates  were  given. 

The  book  is  not  a  biography,  it  is  an  un- 
finished autobiography,  but  so  replete  with 
interest  and  charm  that  it  must  always  be  a 
regret  that  it  was  never  completed.  Mrs. 
Hobson  had  meant  to  have  written  more,  to 
have  filled  in  the  gaps,  to  have  interspersed 


PREFACE  xv 

new  chapters,  to  have  written  of  a  journey  to 
Japan  with  Mrs.  Osborn,  in  1897,  and  other 
experiences.  All  this  had  been  planned  for 
that  very  summer  of  1912,  in  Bar  Harbor,  of 
which  she  saw  but  the  first  June  days. 

The  editor  has  simply  supplied  dates,  and 
verified  statements  so  far  as  this  has  been 
possible  through  attainable  information.  With 
three  exceptions,  however. 

Mrs.  Hobson,  before  her  death,  had  asked 
her  friend  and  fellow-worker,  Miss  Schuyler, 
to  revise  for  her  the  two  chapters  entitled 
"The  Founding  of  the  Bellevue  Training 
School  for  Nurses"  and  "First  Aid  to  the 
Injured,"  for  which  she  had  no  books  of  refer- 
ence at  hand.  The  interest  to  the  editor  of 
this  pleasant  task  was  still  further  enhanced 
by  the  fact,  already  stated,  that  these  were 
two  of  the  three  chapters  selected  for  wider 
circulation,  as  reprints,  owing  to  their  impor- 
tance and  public  interest.  They  have  there- 
fore been  very  thoroughly  revised,  with  added 
notes,  each  statement  verified  from  original 
sources,  the  narrative  now  being  historically 
accurate.  The  same  is  true  of  the  other  chap- 
ter "Southern  Trip,"  which  has  been  revised 
by  Mrs.  Archibald  Hopkins,  who  accompanied 
Mrs.  Hobson  on  her  journey  to  the  South. 


xvl  PREFACE 

The  explanatory  notes  have  been  appended 
for  the  enlightenment  of  a  public  which  should 
know,  but  which  does  not  know,  how  deeply 
it  is  indebted  to  Mrs.  Hobson.* 

For  the  dates  and  other  information  re- 
quired for  the  main  body  of  the  memoirs,  the 
editor  is  indebted  to  the  family  of  Mrs.  Hob- 
son.  She  desires  also  to  acknowledge  her  in- 
debtedness to  Miss  Mary  Parsons  for  other 
valuable  assistance. 

Several  of  Mrs.  Hobson's  friends,  who  knew 
her  intimately,  have  said  that  she  has  not  done 
herself  justice  in  these  memoirs,  that  no  one 
would  know  from  them  of  the  power  of  sym- 
pathy and  the  force  of  character  which  were 
hers,  that  she  had  not  given  the  deeper  side 
of  her  nature.  But  may  not  this  have  been 
intentional?  Did  not  she  mean  to  give  the 
light  touch,  to  pass  over  with  a  word  the 
shadows  one  knows  were  there?  Were  not 
the  " Recollections  of  a  Happy  Life"  meant  to 
depict  the  happy  side  of  that  life,  not  the 
sorrows  and  the  trials  which  come  to  all?  So  it 
would  seem.  For,  be  her  own  words  what 

*  The  three  chapters  were  not  reprinted  and  issued  as  a  sepa- 
rate edition,  as  was  originally  proposed,  this  plan  having  been 
abandoned  when  the  publication  of  the  book  was  decided  upon. 
See  page  xii. — Editor,  1916. 


PREFACE  xvii 

they  may,  those  who  knew  Mrs.  Hobson  well 
could  never  for  a  moment  doubt  her  deep  sym- 
pathy with  those  in  trouble,  the  earnestness  of 
her  convictions,  the  abiding  sense  of  the 
fundamental  principles  which  governed  her 
life. 

To  the  friend  who  has  had  the  privilege  of 
editing  these  memoirs,  the  work  has  been  one 
of  very  great  pleasure.  As  one  turns  the 
pages  again  and  again,  the  narrative  never 
loses  its  freshness,  nor  the  clear,  flowing  style 
its  charm.  The  social  traits,  so  characteristic 
of  Mrs.  Hobson,  are  all  there — the  vivacity, 
humor,  quick  perception,  the  wide  interests, 
freedom  from  prejudice  and  independence  of 
thought,  the  adaptability  to  new  countries 
and  strange  peoples  of  the  true  cosmopolitan 
— all  are  to  be  found  in  these  pages.  Nor 
is  there  lacking  the  more  earnest  side,  the 
sympathy  with  suffering  and  with  the  op- 
pressed which,  united  with  enthusiasm,  ability 
and  industry,  have  made  her  a  power  for  good, 
far-reaching  and  enduring.  It  is  a  great  gift, 
this  which  our  friend  has  given  to  us,  for  into 
these  pages  she  has  put  herself. 

LOUISA  LEE  SCHUTLER. 

NEW  YORK, 
May,  1914. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

INTRODUCTION iii 

PREFACE ix 

I.    CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH 1 

II.    LIFE  ON  A  SAILING  SHIP 15 

III.  SAN  FRANCISCO  AND  CHILE      .     .     .     .25 

IV.  PERU 33 

V.    FAMILY  AND  FRIENDS 69 

VI.    THE  FOUNDING  OF  THE  BELLEVUE  TRAIN- 
ING SCHOOL  FOR  NURSES      ....     77 

VII.    CHATEAU  D'AUNAY 115 

VIII.  FIRST  AID  TO  THE  INJURED     ....  135 

IX.    CONSTANTINOPLE 149 

X.    ITALY 177 

XL    THE  HOLY  LAND 181 

XII.    SOUTHERN  TRIP 185 

XIII.    WASHINGTON 229 

LAST  JOTTINGS  AND  LAST  LETTERS     .     .  239 

APPENDIX 
A  PETITION  .  255 


nx 


Childhood  must  pass  away,  and 
then  youth,  as  surely  as  age  approaches. 
The  true  wisdom  is  to  be  always  season- 
able, and  to  change  with  a  good  grace 
with  changing  circumstances.  To  love 
playthings  well  as  a  child,  to  lead  an 
adventurous  and  honorable  youth,  and 
to  settle,  when  the  time  arrives,  into  a 
green  and  smiling  age,  is  to  be  a  good 
artist  in  life  and  deserve  well  of  your- 
self and  your  neighbor. 


STEVENSON. 


APOLOGIA 

I  DOUBT  very  much  if  these  Recollections 
will  ever  be  read  except  by  the  friends 
who  requested  me  to  write  them,  and  who 
may  survive  me.  I  may  not  live  to  finish 
them,  for  I  am  now  in  my  eightieth  year,  but 
I  cannot  forbear  expressing  now  the  pleasure 
I  have  had  in  writing  them,  thus  recalling  the 
memories  of  the  happy  past,  for  which  I  thank 
Almighty  God.  To  me  Agur's  prayer  has  been 
granted :  "  Give  me  neither  poverty  nor  riches, 
feed  me  with  food  convenient  for  me."  I  have 
had  perfect  health,  devoted  relatives  and 
friends,  no  pecuniary  anxieties,  and  of  the 
world  I  have  seen  its  best.  Bishops  and 
statesmen,  authors  and  artists,  philanthropists 
and  scientists,  have  been  among  my  friends; 
and  women,  some  of  the  noblest  in  many 
countries.  So  with  a  grateful  heart  I  lay  down 
my  pen,  with  a  tender  farewell  to  those  I  love 

and  who  have  loved  me. 

E.  C.  H. 

CORNERSMEET  COTTAGE, 

BAR  HARBOR, 

September,  1911. 


XXI 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  HAPPY  LIFE 


CHILDHOOD   AND   YOUTH 
1831-1850 

I  AM  asked  by  some  dear  friends  to  write  my 
reminiscences,  to  put  into  writing  some 
of  the  anecdotes  I  have  told  them  of  my  long 
and  somewhat  varied  life.  To  please  them,  I 
shall  make  the  attempt  and,  after  I  am  gone, 
they  must  decide  whether  it  is  desirable  to 
publish  them  or  not;  if  not,  they  must  destroy 
them. 

In  thinking  over  the  matter,  I  find  that  my 
life  has  been  divided  into  four  epochs,  all  of 
which  have  had  a  distinct  effect  upon  my 
character,  probably  from  their  absolutely  dif- 
ferent environments.  The  first  was  my  life 
till  I  married,  at  the  age  of  nineteen,  Decem- 
ber 4,  1850.  The  second  was  my  married 
life  in  South  America,  till  1869 ;  the  third,  the 
thirteen  years  passed  in  New  York,  till  1882; 


2  RECOLLECTIONS 

and  fourth,  after  I  became  a  widow,  the 
twenty-six  years  when  I  have  had  my  home 
in  Washington,  varied  by  frequent  visits,  of 
long  and  short  periods,  to  Europe. 

I  am  descended  from  the  early  Puritan 
stock,  and  I  have  felt  its  influence  on  my 
character  all  my  life.  In  spite  of  my  residence 
in  many  different  countries,  the  heredity  in  me 
has  always  been  supreme.  Romanism,  Epis- 
copacy, Agnosticism,  Mysticism,  Christian 
Science,  in  spite  of  the  efforts  of  their  followers, 
have  all  failed  to  produce  any  permanent  im- 
pression upon  me.  Not  that  I  am  a  Puritan, 
like  my  ancestors;  I  know  nothing  and  care 
less  for  the  old  dogmas,  election,  predestina- 
tion; but  the  Puritan  conscience,  so-called, 
has  followed  me  all  my  life,  has  protected  me 
in  many  moments  of  temptation  and  doubt; 
and  now,  when  the  old  creeds  are  passing  away 
and  new  ones  arising,  I  am  undisturbed,  feel- 
ing a  blessed  assurance  that  the  simple  teach- 
ings of  Jesus  are  influencing  mankind  more 
and  more,  and  that  the  cruel  creeds  and  stupid 
dogmas,  over  which  mankind  has  fought  for 
centuries,  will  soon  be  forgotten,  to  give  place, 
let  us  hope,  to  peace  on  earth  and  good  will  to 
men. 

I  had  an  opportunity,  recently,  to  see  the 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  3 

genealogical  tree  of  one  of  the  branches  of  my 
mother's    family.      Ichabod    Wetmore,    who 
came  from  Wales  about  1680,  was  one  of  the 
first  settlers  of  Middletown,  Conn.     He  was 
married  three  times,  and  had  seventeen  chil- 
dren.    His  children,  for  several  generations, 
had  large  families,  nine  and  ten  children,  until 
now  they  have  dwindled  to  two  and  three.    It 
is  a  mystery  to  me  how  they  managed  to  bring 
up  their  families  as  they  did,  for  there  was 
nothing  sordid  about  their  lives :  they  were  in- 
telligent,  well  educated  and  self-respecting. 
Look  at  the   commonwealths  they  founded, 
what  good  laws  they  passed,  their  schools  and 
colleges,  and  such  intelligent  men  and  women, 
and  how  strong  and  dignified  the  men,  how  re- 
fined and  graceful  the  women.    I  have  a  minia- 
ture of  my  grandmother,  by  Malbone,  and  I 
like  to  feel  that  I  am  descended  from  such  a 
refined  and  beautiful  woman.    My  mother,  her 
daughter,  whose  portrait  at  the  age  of  fifty 
hangs  above  me  as  I  write,  has  an  air  of  dis- 
tinction and  repose,  which  one  does  not  see  in 
the  women  of  her  age  nowadays,  in  their  low 
dresses  and  wigs,  pearls  and  diamonds,  smok- 
ing cigarettes  and  playing  bridge.    But  these 
reflections  are  useless,  so  I  will  proceed  with 
my  story. 


4  RECOLLECTIONS 

I  had  a  most  happy  childhood.  I  was  the 
eldest  of  five  girls,  and  as  they  will  be  frequent- 
ly mentioned  in  my  story,  I  will  name  them 
now.  I,  the  eldest,  am  Elizabeth,  married  to 
Joseph  Hobson;*  Mary,  married  to  General 
Berdan;  Lucy,  married  to  the  Hon.  L.  P. 
Morton;  Caroline,  married  to  Colonel  R.  G. 
Lay;  and  Fanny,  who  died  unmarried.  I  have 
said  that  my  father  and  mother  came  of  the 
best  New  England  stock.  My  father's  uncle 
was  Samuel  Huntington,  signer  of  the  Decla- 
ration of  Independence,  and  my  mother  was 
the  direct  descendant,  through  her  father,  of 
Samuel  Hinsdale,  the  first  settler  of  Deerfield, 
Mass.,  so  well  known  in  our  Colonial  history 
as  the  scene  of  the  famous  Indian  massacre. 
Mr.  Blaine  once  asked  me  where  I  came  from, 
and  I  told  him  my  father's  name,  Elijah  Hunt- 
ington Kimball.  "Your  people  came  from 
Ipswich,"  he  exclaimed;  "you  will  find  all  their 
graves  in  the  churchyard  there."  Being  at 
Beverly  some  time  after,  I  proposed  to  my 
nieces  to  look  up  our  ancestors  at  Ipswich.  On 
arriving  at  the  graveyard,  we  dispersed  in  dif- 
ferent directions  to  find  the  Kimballs.  Pres- 

*  Elizabeth  Christophers  Hobson.  Daughter  of  Elijah  Hunt- 
ington and  Sarah  Wetmore  Kimball.  Bom — November  22, 
1831.  Married — Joseph  Hobson,  of  Baltimore,  Maryland 
December  4,  1850. 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  5 

ently  I  came  upon  a  tombstone  dedicated  to 
the  memory  of  Richard  Kimball,  1656,  with 
the  epitaph,  "An  honest  man's  the  noblest 
work  of  God."  I  called  to  the  girls  to  give  up 
their  search,  as  we  could  be  satisfied,  as  well  as 
proud,  of  the  ancestor  I  had  found.  One  story 
connected  with  the  early  history  of  my  family 
is  an  account  of  a  visit  of  Captain  Kidd,  the 
pirate,  to  Gardiner's  Island,  in  July,  1699,  just 
before  his  last  voyage,  when  he  was  captured 
and  executed  in  England.  John  Lyon  Gardi- 
ner, 3rd  Proprietor  of  Gardiner's  Island,  was 
absent,  and  his  wife,  to  propitiate  her 
dangerous  visitor,  invited  the  pirate  to  come 
ashore  and  dine  with  her.  He  returned  his 
thanks  and,  with  the  message,  he  sent  her 
a  piece  of  Oriental  embroidery,  known  in  the 
family  as  "The  Kidd  Blanket,"  and  also  an 
East  Indian  jar  of  sweetmeats,  known  as  "The 
Kidd  Pitcher."  The  embroidery  is  two  yards 
long  by  three-fourths  wide,  crimson,  green  and 
gold,  in  stripes,  and  is  as  bright  and  perfect  as 
when  first  woven.  It  is  sometimes  called 
"The  Kidd  Altar  Cloth,"  as  it  was  presumed 
that  the  pirate  took  it  from  a  church.  This 
heirloom  came  into  my  line  of  descent  from 
Gardiner's  Island,  through  my  ancestress, 
Mrs.  Allen,  who  in  1710  became  the  third  wife 


6  RECOLLECTIONS 

of  John  Lyon  Gardiner.  She  was  not  the 
mother  of  his  Gardiner  children,  but  the  altar 
cloth  probably  came  into  her  possession.  Her 
son,  Fitz  John  Allen,  received  it  from  her,  and 
through  his  daughter,  Elizabeth  Allen,  who 
married  Christopher  Christophers,  it  has  come 
to  me,  through  five  generations  of  Elizabeth 
Christophers.  "The  Kidd  Pitcher"  has  also 
been  preserved  and,  bound  with  a  silver  band 
and  inscription,  is  now  in  the  possession  of  a 
descendant  of  John  Lyon  Gardiner,  my  dear 
friend,  Mrs.  Henry  Fairfield  Osborn,  of  New 
York. 

So  much  for  my  ancestors.  I  like,  however, 
to  recall  the  life  at  my  grandfather's  house,  in 
New  Hampshire,  where  I  passed  many  sum- 
mers, because,  as  I  look  back  upon  it,  in  view 
of  life  at  present,  I  repeat  that  it  seems  incredi- 
ble that  so  much  refinement  and  culture  could 
have  been  coexistent  with  what  must  have 
been  very  narrow  means  and  a  restricted  life. 
The  farm  was  of  about  five  hundred  acres, 
beautifully  situated  on  the  Connecticut  River, 
four  miles  south  of  Dartmouth  College.  There 
was  a  large,  comfortable  house,  shaded  by  "  im- 
memorial elms,"  great  barns  and  outhouses  for 
the  numerous  horses  and  cattle,  and,  as  I  re- 
member it,  life  was  very  busy  and  interesting. 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  7 

My  grandfather  was  an  old  Puritan.  Oh!  how 
long  those  prayers  were,  and  those  sermons  he 
read  aloud  rainy  Sundays  when  we  could  not 
go  the  four  miles  to  church,  where,  on  pleasant 
days,  we  stayed  to  two  services  and  Sunday 
school,  eating  our  luncheon,  which  we  had 
brought  in  a  basket,  between  services.  He 
was  a  fine  old  man,  full  of  energy  and  preju- 
dices, as  we  would  call  them  now.  The  first 
time  I  ever  heard  an  oath  was  when  I  heard 
him  damn  Jefferson ! 

He  managed  on  what  must  have  been  a  very 
small  income  to  support  and  educate  his  large 
family.  His  two  sons  went  to  college,  his  four 
daughters  to  Miss  Emma  Willard's  school  at 
Troy,  the  fashionable  school  of  the  day,  and 
were  most  accomplished  women.  Two  of  them 
lived  to  fill  conspicuous  positions  in  society. 
The  elder,  Eunice,  married  the  son  of  the 
Squire,  the  smart  young  man  of  the  country. 
He  fell  into  bad  habits,  so  my  grandfather 
brought  her  home,  and  instead  of  being  di- 
vorced, as  she  would  have  been  now,  and  mar- 
rying again,  she  became  the  good  angel  of  the 
village,  founded  a  church  and  Sunday  school, 
and  her  beautiful  garden  was  celebrated.  She 
did  not  talk  much  about  it — gardens  were  not 
the  fashion  then — though  everyone  cultivated 


8  RECOLLECTIONS 

the  flowers  which  are  now  so  admired  as  old- 
fashioned.  I  doubt  if  my  aunt  ever  heard  of 
an  Italian  garden,  but,  as  she  was  well-read  in 
English  literature,  she  had  probably  read 
Bacon  and  taken  some  hints  from  him.  I  don't 
know  where  her  plants  came  from,  but  I  have 
a  distinct  remembrance  of  the  first  stalk  of 
heliotrope  I  ever  saw,  which  she  gave  me,  and 
I  never  smell  it  now  without  thinking  of  Aunt 
Eunice.  To  her  I  owe  my  memories  of  the 
"Vicar  of  Wakefield,"  "Sir  Charles  Grandi- 
son,"  and  the  "Children  of  the  Abbey,"  and 
last,  but  not  least,  the  Bible,  and  especially  the 
New  Testament.  My  grandfather  preferred 
the  Old,  and  quoted  the  Prophets  and  spoke  of 
them  as  familiarly  as  if  he  had  been  brought 
up  with  them.  My  aunt  always  wore  a  cap 
with  borders  of  fine  lace,  tied  under  her  chin 
with  rose-colored  ribbons.  I  always  thought 
of  her  as  very  old.  Not  long  since,  in  looking 
over  the  records  in  the  family  Bible,  I  found 
that  she  died  at  the  age  of  forty-two. 

My  grandparents  lived  to  be  over  ninety, 
and  theirs  must  have  been  a  strenuous  life. 
Almost  everything  which  we  buy  now  at  the 
grocer  was  made  on  the  place.  I  remember 
the  intense  interest  I  took  in  seeing  the  cheese 
and  butter  made,  the  candles  formed,  the  wool 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  9 

spun,  the  preserves  prepared.  I  was  proud  to 
assist,  especially  at  Thanksgiving,  when  the 
mince  meat  was  being  mixed  and  the  apple  and 
pumpkin  pies  were  made,  the  pastry  by  my 
aunt's  delicate  fingers.  It  was  she  who  always 
pleated  the  cambric  ruffles  on  my  grandfather's 
shirts.  All  my  three  aunts  did  the  most  beau- 
tiful muslin  embroidery,  babies'  caps,  dresses, 
and  exquisite  long  scarfs  on  India  muslin. 
How  did  they  accomplish  it  all?  My  Aunt 
Lucy,  who  was  celebrated  for  her  beauty,  died 
at  the  age  of  thirty-five  in  Philadelphia,  where 
she  went  to  live  on  her  second  marriage  with 
Mr.  James  Stuart.  She  and  her  sister  Caro- 
line both  first  married  brothers,  Scotchmen, 
named  Young,  who  were  owners  of  coal  mines 
in  Pottsville,  Penn.  Their  husbands  died 
within  a  year  of  each  other,  of  consumption, 
and  the  two  young  widows,  both  under  thirty, 
returned  to  their  father's  house  in  New  Hamp- 
shire, driving  all  the  way  in  their  own  carriage. 
I  can  see  Henry,  the  colored  coachman,  and 
the  two  black  horses  now,  and  I  can  recall  my 
feeling  of  pride  when  the  steps  were  let  down 
for  me  to  enter  the  great  heavy  coach. 

My  Aunt  Caroline  married  a  second  time 
Professor  Haddock,  of  Dartmouth  College,  a 
nephew  of  Daniel  Webster,  and  I  cannot  re- 


10  RECOLLECTIONS 

member  a  handsomer  or  more  high-bred  gen- 
tleman than  he. 

Now  I  must  speak  of  New  York,  and  tell  of 
my  father  and  mother,  and  my  own  home  life 
as  a  girl.  My  father  was  a  lawyer  by  profes- 
sion, a  poet  and  idealist  in  temperament.  My 
mother  was  intelligent,  practical,  beautiful. 
As  a  wife  and  mother  she  was  perfect.  I  never 
remember  a  domestic  jar.  If  she  ever  differed 
from  my  father,  we  children  never  heard  the 
discussion.  Life  moved  smoothly  on  the  Long 
Island  farm;  and  again  I  must  refer  to  the 
wondrous  amount  of  work  accomplished  in  a 
domestic  way,  such  a  contrast  to  the  life  of 
to-day.  The  farm  was  seven  miles  from  Brook- 
lyn. There  were  no  public  conveyances ;  every 
person,  every  trunk,  every  package,  had  to  be 
brought  in  my  father's  vehicles  to  and  fro. 
The  hospitality  was  boundless.  I  used  to  say 
that  in  summer  I  never  knew  where  my  bed 
was,  except  that  it  was  the  last  one  unoccu- 
pied. People  used  to  say  that  they  wondered 
how  my  mother  managed  to  entertain  so  much, 
and  she  would  reply  with  her  radiant  smile: 
"  Oh,  I  never  worry  as  long  as  there  are  oysters 
in  the  oyster-bed  and  chickens  in  the  barn- 
yard." 

As  I  have  said,  we  were  five  girls.    All  our 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  11 

clothes  were  made  in  the  house,  and  we  were 
always  well  dressed.  In  those  days  dress  was 
simple,  but  we  had  all  we  required,  or  even 
wished  for.  There  were  never  any  discussions 
about  money.  We  never  thought  of  people  as 
rich  or  poor.  The  only  distinction  we  knew 
was  between  the  well-bred  and  the  reverse,  and 
to  this  day  it  always  shocks  me  a  little  to  hear 
people  described  as  poor,  as  if  it  were  a  re- 
proach. We  always  came  to  the  table  and  my 
father  encouraged  us  to  talk,  and  when  my 
mother  would  suggest  that  we  talked  too 
much,  he  insisted  that  it  was  the  only  way  to 
teach  us  the  art  of  conversation,  and  he  was 
certainly  most  inspiring.  As  we  grew  older 
and  went  to  boarding  school  in  New  York, 
Friday  and  Saturday  evenings  were  spent  in 
discussing  our  studies,  examining  us,  and  tell- 
ing us  the  news  of  the  day.  My  father  had 
many  friends  in  public  life  and  we  sat  and  lis- 
tened to  their  conversation.  The  slavery  ques- 
tion was  coming  to  the  front,  and  I  became  an 
ardent  abolitionist.  My  sister  Mary  did  not 
sympathize  with  my  views,  and  I  remember 
she  whispered  once  at  school:  " Don't  talk 
abolition;  if  you  do  the  girls  won't  speak  to 
you."  So  there  were  differences  of  opinion 
even  then  on  the  slavery  question.  One  even- 


12  RECOLLECTIONS 

ing  my  father  brought  home  from  New  York 
a  little  negro  boy,  who  had  been  sent  from  the 
South,  through  the  " underground  railroad," 
and  passed  on  to  my  father  as  a  sympathizer. 
After  a  short  and  unsatisfactory  period  in  the 
pantry,  Harry  was  transferred  to  the  stable, 
and  I  was  deputed  to  teach  him  to  read.  The 
result  was  so  successful,  in  spite  of  much  dis- 
couragement on  my  part,  that  he  grew  beyond 
his  teacher,  was  sent  to  school  and  finally  be- 
came a  chaplain  of  a  colored  regiment  in  the 
Civil  War. 

I  must  not  fail  to  mention  our  school.  All 
of  us  who  came  under  Professor  Tappan's  in- 
struction and  influence  have  realized  during 
our  whole  lives  the  intellectual  impetus  he  in- 
spired. A  fine  writer  himself,  we  learned 
from  him  to  appreciate  the  beauty  of  style,  and 
to  love  the  great  English  writers.  He  treated 
us  girls  with  such  courtesy  that  we  should  have 
felt  humiliated  if  he  had  ever  found  us  unpre- 
pared for  a  recitation.  He  became  afterwards 
the  first  Chancellor  of  the  University  of  Michi- 
gan. 

I  left  school  at  seventeen,  and  the  following 
winter  I  passed  at  the  Astor  House,  then  a 
fashionable  hotel,  where  my  parents  were  in 
the  habit  of  spending  the  winter  months.  And 


CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  13 

now  took  place  an  event  which  was  the  turning 
point  in  my  life.  I  should  like  to  be  able  to 
describe  myself  at  this  time,  the  winter  of  1849. 
My  sisters  all  gave  promise  of  beauty,  but  I 
was  never  considered  to  have  any.  I  was 
small  and  fair,  with  a  profusion  of  light-brown 
hair  and  gray  eyes  which  were  not  remarkable 
in  any  way  at  that  time,  but  they  have  served 
me  so  well  that  a  great  oculist  told  me  re- 
cently that  he  had  never  seen  but  one  person 
with  such  strong  eyes  at  my  age.  I  had  a 
happy  nature,  and  was  fortunate  in  always 
making  friends,  so  whether  I  was  pretty  or 
ugly,  did  not  trouble  me. 

At  the  Astor  House  that  winter  were  some 
friends  of  my  parents,  a  Captain  and  Mrs. 
Johnson,  who  were  going  around  Cape  Horn  to 
California  in  a  fine  ship,  and  they  invited  me 
to  go  with  them.  From  San  Francisco  they  ex- 
pected to  go  to  India,  thence  home,  to  be  gone 
about  a  year.  Gold  had  been  discovered  in 
California  two  years  before ;  all  the  world  was 
excited  on  the  subject,  and  I  was  wild  to  accept 
the  invitation.  Everybody  was  envying  me, 
but  my  parents  hesitated.  'Twas  such  a 
plunge  into  the  unknown.  A  trip  which  causes 
no  surprise  nowadays  was  then  a  topic  of  deep- 
est interest.  My  parents  consulted  our  clergy- 


14  RECOLLECTIONS 

man  and  the  family  doctor,  as  well  as  our  rela- 
tives, and  at  last  gave  a  reluctant  consent.  I 
was  pointed  out  at  the  Astor  House  as  "the 
girl  who  was  going  round  the  world!"  People 
asked  to  be  introduced  to  me.  I  was  a  celeb- 
rity. I  wrote  touching  letters  of  farewell  to 
my  relatives  and  friends;  I  felt  myself  a  hero- 
ine. The  spirit  of  adventure  was  strong  within 
me.  I  was  fearless,  but  it  was  the  bravery  of 
ignorance.  No  young  girl  ever  stepped  out 
into  the  world  more  guileless  or  more  uncon- 
scious of  evil.  At  last  the  day  of  departure 
came;  how  well  I  recall  it,  the  eleventh  of 
January,  1850,  a  cold,  raw,  blustering  day. 
When  I  came  to  bid  my  mother  good-bye,  I 
would  have  given  worlds  if  she  had  said: 
"Don't  go,  my  child,"  but  she  did  not,  and, 
smiling  through  my  tears,  I  saw  them  leave 
the  ship  and  me  to  my  fate. 


II 

LIFE  ON  A  SAILING  SHIP 
1850 

HOW  can  I  give  any  idea  of  life  on  a  sailing 
ship  sixty  years  ago.  The  Virginia  was 
a  fine  clipper  ship,  and  her  arrangements  were 
considered  excellent.  She  was  provided  with 
every  comfort  then  considered  essential,  but  I 
fancy,  in  fact  I  know,  that  the  second-cabin 
passengers  on  an  ocean  steamer  now  are  far 
more  comfortable  and  have  better  food  on 
their  short  voyages  from  Liverpool  than  we 
had  on  that  four  months'  voyage.  Of  course 
I  was  sea-sick  and  home-sick,  but,  as  the  days 
passed  and  we  got  into  good  weather,  with  the 
buoyancy  of  youth  my  spirits  revived,  and  I 
began  to  realize  the  beauty  and  charm  of  life 
at  sea.  The  captain  and  his  wife  were  kindness 
itself.  Mrs.  Johnson  was  a  bride  and  as  new 
to  the  sea  as  I  was.  We  soon  adapted  our- 
selves to  the  routine,  and,  by  the  time  we 
reached  Rio,  I  knew  every  rope  in  the  ship  and 
could  almost  "  take  the  sun."  The  man  at  the 
wheel  was  my  friend ;  the  sails,  the  pumps,  the 

15 


16  RECOLLECTIONS 

spars,  the  coiled  ropes  around  the  belaying 
pins,  spoke  to  me  a  familiar  language. 

Oh,  that  bay  of  Rio!  I  have  seen  all  the 
famous  harbors  of  the  world  since  then,  but 
none  ever  filled  me  with  such  emotion,  with 
such  a  sense  of  beauty. 

I  pass  over  the  rough  and  stormy  passage 
around  Cape  Horn.  Also  the  three  days  passed 
at  Valparaiso,  because  I  shall  return  there 
later. 

After  a  voyage  of  one  hundred  and  twenty- 
five  days,  we  passed  through  the  Golden  Gate 
and  anchored  at  San  Francisco.  It  was  a  ter- 
rible-looking place :  streets  of  shanties  deep  in 
mud,  here  a  high  building  and  there  a  few 
scattered  houses,  wooden  sidewalks  under 
which  the  great  wharf  rats  burrowed  and  ran 
over  your  feet  at  night.  People  from  every 
clime;  and  oh,  such  terrible-looking  women! 
Sacramento  Street  was  given  up  to  gambling 
houses;  at  night  they  were  brilliantly  lighted, 
the  tables  covered  with  gold  doubloons  around 
which  the  men  and  women  gathered  in  crowds. 
As  I  looked  at  them  through  the  windows,  I 
felt  as  if  I  were  gazing  into  hell,  and  to  this  day 
gambling  for  a  stake,  however  small,  is  odious 
to  me. 

We  were  invited  to  stop  with  Mrs.  Hooper, 


LIFE  ON  A  SAILING  SHIP  17 

whose  husband  was  a  partner  of  the  firm  of 
Cross,  Hobson  &  Co.  To  Mrs.  Hooper  at- 
taches a  curious  story,  which  I  heard  many 
years  later.  She  had  gone  as  a  bride  to  the 
Sandwich  Islands,  where  her  husband  left  her 
for  a  cruise  among  the  other  Pacific  Islands. 
Time  passed  and  he  did  not  return,  until  finally 
he  was  given  up  for  lost.  After  some  years  had 
passed,  she  married  Mr.  Hooper  and  came  to 
San  Francisco.  Her  first  husband,  however, 
was  not  lost.  He  was  cast  ashore  in  some  in- 
accessible spot,  and  drifted  from  place  to  place, 
penniless  and  forlorn,  until  he  finally  reached 
San  Francisco,  to  find  his  wife  married  to  a 
wealthy  man  and  in  an  excellent  position. 
Like  Enoch  Arden  he  turned  away  in  silence, 
settled  far  away  in  the  prairies,  and  the  story 
was  known  to  so  few  that  Mrs.  Hooper  never 
heard  it,  nor  the  world  in  general,  until  long 
after  both  he  and  she  were  dead. 

Another  anecdote  is  illustrative  of  the 
period.  In  those  days  in  San  Francisco,  al- 
though somewhat  difficult  to  satisfy  the  east- 
ern standard  of  hospitality,  the  merchants 
were  anxious  to  entertain  the  officers  of  the 
men-of-war,  there  being  quite  a  fleet  in  the 
port.  They  chose  a  large  warehouse  for  their 
banquet.  When  the  invitations  were  accepted, 


18  RECOLLECTIONS 

and  the  preparations  were  being  made,  they 
found,  to  their  dismay,  that  whale-oil  lamps 
were  entirely  inadequate  to  light  the  vast 
space.  No  gas,  no  Standard  Oil,  no  electricity 
in  those  days;  but  the  versatile  Samuel  Ward, 
known  in  later  years  as  "  Uncle  Sam,"  came  to 
the  rescue,  assuring  the  committee  that,  if 
they  would  leave  it  to  him,  he  would  provide 
them  light  enough.  When  the  night  arrived, 
the  guests  found  the  sides  of  the  room 
lined  with  marble  statues,  holding  blazing 
flambeaux  of  pitch  pine,  the  statues  being 
stevedores,  stripped  and  whitewashed.  The 
committee  and  guests  made  no  unfavorable 
comments. 

From  this  digression  I  must  now  turn  to 
my  own  life,  and  its  most  important  event,  my 
engagement  to  Joseph  Hobson.  Sixty-one 
years  ago,  and  I  see  him  now  as  clearly  as  when 
I  first  met  him,  and  when  he  stood  before  me, 
the  perfect  gentleman  that  he  was,  in  such  con- 
trast to  those  around  him.  Handsome,  cour- 
teous, high  bred,  rather  reserved,  he  was  like 
my  own  people,  and  my  heart  went  out  to  him 
at  once;  and  when,  after  daily  intercourse  of 
ten  days,  he  asked  me  to  marry  him,  I  con- 
sented without  hesitation.  No  one  could  know 
him  and  not  feel  sure  of  him.  I  made  but  one 


LIFE  ON  A  SAILING  SHIP  19 

condition,  that  he  should  follow  me  home,  and 
that  we  should  be  married  there.  It  was  a 
month's  journey  across  the  Isthmus  of  Pan- 
ama, but  I  felt  I  could  not  be  married  any- 
where but  in  my  dear  home  with  my  parents 
and  sisters  around  me.  So  I  bade  good-bye  to 
my  kind  friends,  the  Johnsons,  and,  under  the 
care  of  Captain  and  Mrs.  Waterman,  who  were 
returning  home,  I  departed,  leaving  my  fiance" 
to  follow  a  week  later.  Such  was  my  regard 
for  "les  convenances,"  but,  as  it  turned  out,  he 
reached  home  a  fortnight  before  I  did,  saw  my 
parents,  and  I  found  all  the  arrangements 
made  for  our  marriage  when  I  arrived. 

My  journey  home  was  adventurous.  On 
reaching  the  port  of  Realejo  in  Nicaragua,  we 
heard  that  cholera  was  raging  on  the  Isthmus 
of  Panama,  so  Captain  Waterman  decided  to 
land  at  Realejo  and  cross  Nicaragua.  Captain 
Waterman  was  a  remarkable  character,  a  type 
of  the  old  sea  captains  who  have  passed  away 
with  the  clipper  ships  they  commanded,  and  the 
American  maritime  commerce  which  is  dead. 
Tall  and  gaunt  in  stature,  profane,  even  cruel  on 
the  quarter-deck,  he  was  low-voiced,  gentle,  and 
kindness  itself  to  a  woman ;  and  he  was  like  a 
father  to  me  during  the  six  weeks  I  was  under 
his  care.  His  wife  warned  me:  "Don't  mind 


20  RECOLLECTIONS 

what  people  say  about  Bob,  he  never  said  an 
unkind  word  to  me  in  his  life."  Kipling  would 
have  understood  him,  the  sailor,  ruthless  in  his 
control  of  the  men  who  drove  those  great  sail- 
ing ships  around  Cape  Horn  as  fast  as  steam 
could  have  carried  them,  and  then  all  affection 
for  women  and  children. 

A  great  deal  has  been  said  of  recent  years 
about  Nicaragua  transit,  but  I  was  one  of  the 
pioneers  of  that  route  which  has  been  so 
fought  over.  Mrs.  Waterman  and  I,  on  the 
captain's  advice,  turned  our  plaid  shawls  into 
trousers  and  long  jackets,  so  we  were  pioneers 
in  that  costume  as  well.  Our  mode  of  convey- 
ance was  an  oxcart,  with  a  mattress  spread  on 
the  bottom.  Another  cart  followed  with  our 
luggage,  and,  with  four  oxen  to  each,  we 
jogged  over  the  not  very  bad  roads,  from 
town  to  town  and  village  to  village,  for  three 
weeks.  The  telephone  of  those  days,  that 
mysterious  intelligence  department  of  simple 
races,  announced  our  coming,  and  all  the  vil- 
lagers turned  out  to  look  at  and  welcome  us. 
We  found  it  was  expected  that  we  should 
descend  from  our  equipage  to  receive  them 
and  their  gifts — cake,  fruit,  etc.  At  first  the 
naked  boys  and  girls  rather  abashed  me,  but  I 
soon  got  accustomed  to  their  bronze  figures,  as 


LIFE  ON  A  SAILING  SHIP  21 

they  were  as  unconscious  of  their  nudity  as 
those  in  the  Vatican.  At  the  large  towns  we 
were  received  by  the  chief  dignitary  of  the 
place.  At  Grenada,  a  fine  town  at  the  head 
of  Lake  Nicaragua,  a  most  beautiful  house  was 
placed  at  our  disposal,  and  fruits,  fowls  and 
flowers  were  sent  to  us  every  day  by  our  hos- 
pitable host.  Everywhere  the  people,  high  and 
low,  impressed  us  as  dignified  and  self-respect- 
ing. '  The  race  was  Spanish ;  in  the  lower  classes 
Indian  and  Spanish.  We  saw  no  poverty  nor 
squalor,  a  happy,  simple,  agricultural  people. 
Since  then  the  country  has  been  racked  by 
revolutions,  and  the  beautiful  town  of  Grenada 
destroyed. 

While  at  Grenada,  we  made  our  preparations 
to  descend  the  lake.  A  large  boat,  with  ten 
men  to  row  and  pole,  was  fitted  up  for  the  voy- 
age of  a  fortnight,  and  we  started  on  our  trip 
to  the  sea,  the  whole  town  turning  out  to  wish 
us  "buen  viagio." 

I  am  under  the  impression  that  we  were  the 
first  North  American  women  who  ever  crossed 
from  sea  to  sea;  at  any  rate  the  inhabitants 
showed  as  much  interest  and  curiosity  about 
us  as  if  we  were,  and  I  remember  that  at  Leon, 
where  we  attended  a  most  sumptuous  wedding 
party,  I  excited  more  interest  than  the  bride. 


22  RECOLLECTIONS 

Our  voyage  down  the  lake  was  uneventful. 
The  virgin  forest  lined  the  shores,  with  now 
and  then  an  Indian  hamlet,  near  which  we 
would  tie  up  at  night  and  hang  our  hammocks 
in  the  trees,  thus  sleeping  more  comfortably 
than  in  our  cramped  quarters  on  the  boat. 
I  wonder  now  that  I  did  not  think  of  the 
possible  danger  from  snakes  and  venomous  in- 
sects, but  I  was  naturally  fearless,  and  under 
the  protection  of  "Bob"  it  did  not  occur  to  me 
that  harm  could  come  to  us.  We  shot  the 
rapids  successfully,  passing  a  little  steamer 
wrecked  upon  them,  and  reached  Greytown,  a 
wretched  little  town  on  the  coast,  low,  swampy 
and  malarious,  infested  with  mosquitoes,  in 
blissful  ignorance  of  their  infectious  qualities. 
We  had  to  remain  there  a  week  before  the 
Royal  Mail  steamer  was  due  which  would  con- 
vey us  to  Kingston,  Jamaica.  I  can  vividly 
remember  the  horrors  of  that  week,  in  a  little 
low  hut  with  no  furniture  but  a  table,  chair,  and 
a  bedstead,  on  which  a  hide  was  stretched  in 
lieu  of  a  mattress,  and  with  only  an  Indian  boy 
to  assist  in  the  cooking  which  we  did  ourselves. 
Most  of  the  time  was  passed  in  fighting  mos- 
quitoes and  tarantulas.  There  was  nothing  to 
see;  the  few  half-starved  inhabitants  were  too 
miserable  to  even  show  any  curiosity  about  the 


LIFE  ON  A  SAILING  SHIP  23 

strangers,  and  the  English  Consul,  who  I  think 
was  the  only  foreigner  in  the  place,  was  too  dis- 
pirited by  malaria  to  pay  any  attention  to  us. 

We  had  worn  our  semi-masculine  costume  so 
long  that  it  had  ceased  to  seem  strange  to  us, 
so  we  walked  on  board  the  English  steamer  as 
nondescript  a  pair  of  women  as  ever  stepped 
on  a  ship's  deck.  The  expression  of  the  smart 
officer  in  his  immaculate  white  uniform,  as  he 
helped  us  over  the  gangway,  was  an  instant 
revelation  to  me,  and  I  whispered  to  Mrs. 
Waterman:  "Let  us  get  into  some  decent 
clothes  at  once."  The  woman  in  me  was 
roused.  I  selected  a  soft  white  frock,  a  pink 
sash,  and  a  Leghorn  hat  with  feathers.  My 
long  hair  was  braided  around  my  head  in  the 
fashion  of  the  day,  but,  alas,  all  the  water  and 
soap  (cosmetics  I  had  none)  could  not  remove 
the  tan  and  freckles  of  six  weeks'  constant  ex- 
posure to  a  tropical  sun.  Nevertheless,  I  felt 
sure  that  officer  would  have  a  different  expres- 
sion when  he  next  saw  me,  and  he  had;  and  I 
had  reason  to  think  that  the  impression  was 
permanent  before  we  parted  at  Jamaica. 

I  pass  over  the  voyage  home,  the  reunion 
with  my  dear  family,  and  the  preparations  for 
my  wedding,  which  took  place  December  4, 
1850. 


Ill 

SAN  FRANCISCO  AND  CHILE 
1850-1854 

MY  wedding  trip  was  across  the  Isthmus 
of  Panama — the  Isthmus  before  the 
railway,  before  de  Lesseps  made  his  abortive 
attempt  to  dig  the  canal.  It  was  in  the  days 
of  the  great  California  emigration,  when  the 
miners  returned  with  their  belts  filled  with 
gold.  On  that  overloaded  steamer  the  passen- 
gers gambled  all  day  on  deck,  and  slept  there 
at  night.  My  husband  had  secured  a  good 
stateroom,  and  we  took  our  meals  with  the 
captain  in  his  cabin.  One  evening  while  we 
were  going  through  the  Caribbean  Sea  (and 
oh!  how  hot  it  was),  word  was  brought  to  me 
that  a  woman  was  in  my  berth  and  could  not 
be  induced  to  move.  I  went  to  see,  and  surely 
there  she  was,  undressed,  and,  to  my  remon- 
strances, she  replied:  "I  have  slept  on  that 
deck  ever  since  we  sailed ;  my  money  is  as  good 
as  yours;  here  is  my  ticket,  and  turn  about  is 
fair  play."  I  sent  for  the  purser,  who,  after 
remonstrating  in  vain,  told  her  he  would  get 
her  a  berth  if  she  would  get  up.  "You  go  and 

25 


26  RECOLLECTIONS 

see  it,  and  tell  me  if  you  would  sleep  in  it," 
she  said  to  me.  I  meekly  went,  and  returned 
to  tell  her  that  it  was  all  right,  as  good  as 
mine,  whereupon  she  whispered  to  me  most 
good-humoredly:  "I  looked  about  and  made 
up  my  mind  they  would  not  let  you  sleep  on 
the  deck,  so  I  took  your  berth.  You  don't 
mind,  do  you?"  We  became  very  friendly 
after  that.  She  told  me  incidents  of  her  life 
in  a  mining  camp,  so  that,  when  years  after  I 
read  Bret  Harte's  stories,  I  felt  I  understood 
them.  We  arrived  at  the  Isthmus.  The 
present  town  of  Aspinwall  did  not  exist.  We 
anchored  off  Ancon,  where  the  officers  of  a 
man-of-war  gave  me  a  picnic  and  cut  down  a 
lofty  cocoanut  tree,  that  I  might  have  the 
pleasure  of  picking  the  cocoanut  myself  and 
drinking  the  milk.  I  had  never  heard  of  "con- 
servation" then,  and  had  no  scruples  about 
sacrificing  a  beautiful  tree  for  my  pleasure. 
For  two  days  and  nights  we  were  poled  up 
the  Chagres  River  by  four  huge  negroes  until 
we  reached  Gorgona,  where  I  passed  the  night 
in  a  corner  of  a  great  rough  building,  where  my 
bed  was  shielded  from  the  crowd  by  canvas 
walls,  and  my  husband  lay  on  a  cot  in  front 
of  the  curtain  door,  while  I  slept  the  sleep  of 
the  weary  traveller.  The  next  morning  we 


SAN  FRANCISCO  AND  CHILE  27 

mounted  our  mules  for  a  twelve  hours'  ride  to 
Panama.  How  glorious  it  is  to  be  young  and 
happy,  fresh  and  hopeful!  I  did  not  mind  the 
terrible  road,  or  when  my  mule  sank  to  his 
knees  in  mud,  whence  he  was  dragged  out  by 
the  man  who  led  him.  My  lap  was  full  of 
orchids  of  every  color,  picked  from  the 
branches  above  my  head.  The  monkeys  and 
parrots  delighted  me,  and  the  travellers  who 
trudged  on  foot  amused  me  with  their  funny 
stories  and  unfamiliar  slang,  the  great  forests 
on  either  side  ringing  with  the  shouts  and 
songs  of  the  adventurers  of  every  race,  officers 
of  our  army  and  navy  going  to  their  posts,  all 
jolly  and  good-humored.  They  were  going  to 
the  El  Dorado;  they  were  not  returning  sick 
and  disappointed.  And  thus  the  hours  passed, 
until  my  husband  lifted  me  off  my  mule  and 
said:  "You  are  a  first-rate  traveller,  I  can 
take  you  anywhere."  He  might  have  modified 
his  praise  when  later  he  found  me  trembling 
and  crying  with  fright  in  my  wretched  little 
bed  at  the  rats  that  were  careering  about  the 
room — only  he  was  quite  as  nervous  as  I  was. 
The  captain  of  the  steamer  going  north  from 
Panama  was  Lieutenant  Beale  of  the  Navy. 
I  knew  him  afterwards  as  General  Beale  in 
Washington,  and  father  of  my  friend,  Mrs. 


28  RECOLLECTIONS 

John  R.  McLean.  He  was  genial,  with  an  ad- 
venturous spirit,  which  every  one  seemed  to 
have  that  I  met  in  those  days,  so  he  and  his 
officers  made  a  pleasant  party.  We  landed  at 
Acapulco,  where  we  spent  a  day  and  night 
under  the  hospitable  roof  of  the  Alcalde.  It  was 
my  first  introduction  into  Spanish  home  life, 
and  certainly  it  was  primitive.  The  domestic 
animals  had  the  run  of  the  house,  and  at 
night  I  was  obliged  to  awaken  my  husband  to 
drive  away  the  pig  which  was  striving  to  push 
me  out  of  my  hammock. 

We  stayed  at  San  Francisco  about  six 
months.  Those  were  the  days  of  the  famous 
Vigilance  Committee,  when  the  citizens  were 
obliged  to  take  the  law  into  their  own  hands; 
and  when  I  learned  that  my  husband  had 
assisted  at  the  hanging  of  two  criminals,  I 
was  so  nervous  and  unhappy  that  he  realized 
that  life  would  be  wretched  for  me  there,  so 
he  made  arrangements  with  his  partners  to 
take  charge  of  the  business  in  Chile,  South 
America,  his  family  having  been  established 
there  for  many  years  and  having  large  inter- 
ests there.  In  order  to  effect  this  arrangement, 
he  sold  his  real  estate  in  San  Francisco. 
Many  years  after,  when  I  went  there  on  my 
way  to  Japan,  I  met  the  man  who  bought  the 


SAN  FRANCISCO  AND  CHILE  29 

property,  and  asked  him  where  it  was.  "I 
will  take  you  to  see  it,"  he  said.  As  I  looked 
on  what  once  was  a  water  lot,  now  covered 
with  massive  stone  buildings,  he  remarked: 
"You  might  have  been  a  very  rich  woman  to- 
day." In  thinking  about  this  "  might  have 
been,"  I  have  decided  that  I  am  not  sorry, 
and  if  I  live  to  finish  this  story  and  my  friends 
read  it,  I  think  they  will  agree  with  me  that 
I  have  had  a  happier  life  than  if  I  had  passed 
it  accumulating  money  in  California. 

I  recall  one  incident  of  the  voyage  on  our 
way  to  Chile.  On  the  steamer,  south  of  Pan- 
ama, was  a  party  of  elderly  men,  South  Ameri- 
cans of  importance,  who  wiled  away  the  hours 
playing  their  favorite  game  of  "rocamboa." 
Reared  as  I  have  been  in  Puritan  principles,  I 
watched  their  cards  and  their  gold  with  dis- 
gust. Finally,  on  Sunday,  discovering  them 
at  their  daily  occupation,  I  could  not  restrain 
myself.  I  walked  up  to  them,  and  in  as  fluent 
Spanish  as  I  could  muster,  I  asked  them  if 
they  did  not  know  that  it  was  a  sin  to  play 
cards  on  Sunday,  and  a  double  sin  to  gamble, 
pointing  to  the  doubloons.  As  soon  as  they 
had  recovered  from  their  astonishment,  they 
rose  with  the  greatest  courtesy,  picked  up  their 
cards  and  gold,  and  bowed  themselves  away. 


30  RECOLLECTIONS 

My  husband,  who  was  reading  at  the  other  end 
of  the  cabin,  jumped  up  in  dismay  and  followed 
them  to  apologize,  when  one  said,  smiling :  "Mais 
elle  est  charmante,  la  petite  Puritaine."  But 
their  compliment  did  not  save  me  from  a  good 
scolding,  and  I  never  again  made  a  gambling  raid . 

I  found  Chile  a  delightful  country  and  I  re- 
ceived a  warm  welcome  in  Valparaiso  from  my 
husband's  family,  in  which  there  were  two 
girls  of  my  own  age.  As  I  had  married  before 
I  had  been  in  society,  I  knew  nothing  of  the 
life  of  the  debutante,  so  I  entered  into  the  gay 
life  of  my  nieces  with  enthusiasm.  On  those 
perfect  saddle  horses  we  rode  long  distances 
over  the  mountains  and  into  the  valleys  to  the 
"haciendas,"  where  we  would  dance  far  into 
the  night,  returning  by  moonlight  or  at  sun- 
rise. I  shall  never  forget  my  surprise  at  see- 
ing my  husband  dance  the  "samacueca"  with 
a  young  Chilena,  with  much  grace  and  spirit, 
and  learned  for  the  first  time  what  a  dancer 
he  was.  One  or  more  of  our  ships-of-war  were 
always  in  the  port,  and  many  are  the  retired 
officers  I  have  since  met  in  Washington  with 
whom  I  have  danced  on  those  white  decks,  and 
with  whom  I  have  ridden  over  those  green  hills. 

South  America  has  retained  much  more  of 
the  impress  of  Spain  than  we  have  that  of 


SAN  FRANCISCO  AND  CHILE  31 

England,  owing  perhaps  to  the  Catholic  re- 
ligion which  sets  its  mark  so  indelibly  upon  its 
members.  At  that  time  there  was  no  tolera- 
tion, and  we  heretics  worshipped  in  a  small 
upper  room  as  in  the  apostolic  times.  Per- 
mission to  have  a  church  of  our  own  was  later 
obtained  by  a  young  New  England  mission- 
ary, who  came  to  Valparaiso  about  1850,  and 
whose  wife  opened  a  school  for  girls.  I  don't 
know  by  what  chance  Mrs.  Trumbull  obtained 
rich  girls  instead  of  poor  ones,  as  is  usual  with 
missionaries,  but  such  was  the  case.  The 
daughters  of  some  of  the  most  influential 
Chileans  went  to  her  school,  and  thus  she 
and  her  husband  were  thrown  into  connection 
with  their  parents.  In  the  course  of  a  few 
years,  through  the  influence  thus  acquired, 
Mr.  Trumbull  obtained  permission  to  build  a 
church,  the  first  Protestant  one,  I  believe,  in 
South  America.  I  have  since  reflected,  in 
view  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  TrumbulTs  success  in 
Chile  through  their  intercourse  with  the  upper 
classes,  that  perhaps  our  missionaries  would 
be  more  successful  if  they  aimed  at  them  in- 
stead of  confining  their  efforts  to  the  poor. 

Santiago,  the  capital  of  Chile,  is  a  most 
beautiful  city,  and  I  was  much  impressed  with 
the  luxury  of  its  inhabitants.  We  stopped  on 


32  RECOLLECTIONS 

one  occasion  at  the  villa  of  Serior  Cousifio,  a 
very  wealthy  and  influential  land  owner.  He 
and  his  wife  were  absent  on  their  estates  in 
the  south,  but  they  placed  their  villa  at  our 
disposal.  Their  carriage,  perfectly  appointed, 
met  us  on  arrival  and  we  were  driven  to  the 
villa,  two  miles  beyond  the  town.  Passing 
through  lofty  iron  gates  into  the  park,  for  a 
distance  of  about  half  a  mile,  the  road  was 
hedged  by  high  shrubs  of  geraniums  and 
fuchsias  in  full  bloom.  We  found  a  corps  of 
trained  servants  awaiting  us.  Our  dinner  was 
served  on  silver  and  rare  porcelain,  and  I  re- 
call that  the  curtains  of  the  salon  were  cash- 
mere shawls.  The  gardens  were  full  of  the 
rarest  flowers,  and  as  we  sat  among  the 
camellias  and  orchids  and  under  the  olive 
trees,  the  snowy  peaks  of  the  Cordilleras  tow- 
ered above  our  heads.  We  stayed  ten  days  in 
this  enchanting  spot,  where  our  every  wish 
was  anticipated,  and  we  never  gave  an  order. 
All  my  remembrances  are  delightful  of  Chile, 
a  beautiful,  interesting  country  and  hospitable 
people.  I  was  too  young  to  study  its  economic 
or  political  conditions;  I  only  know  I  was 
very  happy  there.  I  there  commenced  to 
learn  the  Spanish  language,  which  became 
like  my  mother-tongue  in  after  years. 


IV 

PERU 
1860-1869 

IN  1854  I  returned  to  the  United  States  for 
a  visit.  My  sister  Mary  returned  about 
the  same  time  from  Europe.  During  her  ab- 
sence she  had  passed  two  years  in  Portugal 
with  my  uncle  and  aunt  Haddock,  my  uncle 
being  our  Minister  there,  and  her  letters  give 
such  a  vivid  description  of  that  country  and 
society  that  I  would  like  to  insert  them  in 
these  memoirs.  Perhaps  I  may.  On  her  way 
home  she  passed  a  season  in  London  and  in 
Paris,  and  assisted  at  the  fetes  given  on  the 
occasion  of  the  marriage  of  Napoleon  Third 
to  the  beautiful  Eugenie  de  Montijo.  She 
made  the  acquaintance  at  that  time  of  her 
future  husband,  who  became  known  later  as 
General  Berdan  of  the  Sharpshooters  in  the 
Civil  War.  Mr.  Berdan  was  a  man  of  un- 
usual intellect  and  inventive  genius,  indomi- 
table perseverance  and  industry.  In  all  the 

33 


34  RECOLLECTIONS 

disappointments  of  an  inventor's  life,  he 
never  lost  his  pluck  and  courage,  and  he  car- 
ried his  youthful  heart  to  the  grave. 

Two  years  later  my  sister  Lucy  married 
Mr.  L.  P.  Morton,  at  that  time  a  prosperous 
young  merchant  in  New  York,  and  later  one 
of  the  prominent  bankers  of  the  city.  Even 
as  a  girl,  Lucy  made  an  impression  wherever 
she  went.  As  time  went  on,  she  developed 
into  a  very  rare  woman.  Her  social  gifts 
made  her  a  leader,  and  her  tender  heart  drew 
her  into  much  philanthropic  work.  She  died 
at  the  age  of  thirty-five,  of  what  I  presume 
was  appendicitis. 

It  is  not  necessary  for  me  to  make  any  com- 
ments on  Mr.  Morton's  career  as  Governor  of 
the  State  of  New  York  or  as  Vice-President 
of  the  United  States.  This  is  part  of  the  his- 
tory of  the  country.  He  was  as  fortunate  in 
his  second  marriage  as  in  the  first,  and  his 
wife  and  their  children  have  always  been  very 
dear  and  near  to  me. 

After  a  somewhat  prolonged  visit  at  home, 
my  husband  and  I  returned  to  South  America 
in  1860,  and  Lima,  the  capital  of  Peru,  was 
our  home  for  more  than  nine  years,  where  he 
was  the  partner  of  Alsop  &  Company,  the  chief 
American  house  on  the  Pacific  coast.  The  for- 


PERU  35 

eign  business  of  the  country  was  divided  be- 
tween Gibbs  &  Company,  Huth  &  Company  of 
London,  and  Alsop  &  Company  of  New  York. 
Even  now  I  can  recall  my  emotions  as  I 
entered  that  superb,  dignified  old  Spanish 
house  in  Lima  of  which  I  was  to  be  the  mis- 
tress. It  was  seventy-five  feet  front,  two 
hundred  feet  deep,  built  around  two  courts. 
The  offices  of  the  bank  were  on  the  ground 
floor,  the  residence  above.  This,  my  Peru- 
vian home,  was  built  in  the  Spanish  colonial 
period  and  was  formerly  the  residence  of  a 
great  official  sent  from  Spain.  The  lofty  ceil- 
ings were  of  carved  cedar.  There  was  hardly 
a  room  in  the  house  less  than  thirty  feet 
square  and  some  of  them  larger,  and  so  per- 
fectly ventilated  that  I  never  remember  any 
heat  in  them.  Lima  has  the  only  perfect 
climate  I  have  ever  known.  The  words  of 
the  poet,  "Where  falls  not  hail  or  rain  or 
any  snow,  nor  ever  wind  blows  loudly,"  were 
absolutely  true. 

NOTE. — "This  unusual  condition,  an  entire  absence  of  rain,  is 
ascribed  to  the  action  of  the  lofty  uplands  of  the  Andes  on  the 
trade  wind.  The  southeast  trade  wind  blows  obliquely  across 
the  Atlantic  Ocean  until  it  reaches  Brazil.  By  this  time  it  is 
heavily  laden  with  vapor.  When  it  arrives  at  the  snow-capped 
Andes  the  last  particle  of  moisture  is  wrung  from  it  that  the  very 
low  temperature  can  extract.  It  rushes  down  as  a  cool  and  dry 
wind  on  the  Pacific  slopes.  .  .  .  From  November  to  April  there 


36  RECOLLECTIONS 

In  the  summer,  a  huge  awning  was  spread 
over  the  "patio,"  which  kept  out  the  glare, 
and  there  I  passed  the  long  tropical  days.  It 
was  before  the  era  of  modern  activity.  I  had 
not  acquired  at  home  the  restlessness  of  the 
sporting  woman.  After  my  morning  ride  (and 
oh,  such  horses!)  and  bath  and  breakfast,  I 
was  perfectly  content  to  sit  with  my  books, 
my  studies  (French  and  Spanish),  until 
luncheon.  Then  my  husband  would  bring  in 
some  men :  travellers,  naval  officers  and  friends. 
We  chatted  for  an  hour  or  two.  In  the  after- 
noon, I  made  or  received  visits,  and  at  dinner 
the  table  was  always  laid  for  eight — there 
were  certain  habitue's  on  whom  we  could  al- 
ways count — and,  after  dinner,  billiards.  There 
were  three  men  to  whom  I  shall  always  owe  a 
debt  of  gratitude.  One  was  the  English  clergy- 
man, or  rather  he  was  an  Irishman.  He  gave 
me  books  and  taught  me  how  to  enjoy  them— 
a  gentle,  cultured  man  who  did  his  duty  in  the 
little  church  every  Sunday,  and  never  bothered 
me  with  theological  discussions  during  the 
week. 

are  usually  constant  dryness,  a  clear  sky,  and  considerable, 
though  by  no  means  oppressive,  heat.  From  June  to  September 
the  sky  is  obscured  for  weeks  together  by  fog  (not  unpleasant). 
Maximum  temperature,  about  78°;  minimum,  in  July,  59°." 

• — Encyclopedia  Britannica. 


PERU  37 

Utterly  unlike  him  was  my  German  friend,  a 
linguist,  a  musician,  an  artist,  man  of  the  world, 
an  agnostic.  I  was  at  first  a  little  anxious 
when  the  two  men  met  in  my  salon,  for  I 
feared  that  the  German  would  allow  his  con- 
tempt for  my  dear  little  Irishman  to  become 
apparent,  for,  of  course,  he  could  not  in  the 
least  tolerate  what  he  called  "imbecility," 
"such  stupid  faith."  But  even  he  could  not 
resist  the  bonhomie  of  the  Irishman,  and  he 
had  to  respect  the  rare  culture  of  such  a  ripe 
scholar. 

The  third  was  an  unusually  interesting  man, 
a  South  American.  Though  born  in  England 
and  educated  in  France,  he  was  a  Spanish 
hidalgo  to  his  finger  tips,  a  writer,  a  poet,  a 
politician,  with  rare  business  faculties,  through 
which  he  made  a  large  fortune;  and,  in  the 
latter  years  of  his  life,  a  distinguished  diplo- 
mat. I  remember  hearing  Mr.  Elaine  speak  of 
him  as  the  cleverest  diplomat  in  Washington. 
This  man  was  our  daily  visitor  for  many  years. 
He  was  my  instructor  and  friend — and  is  so 
to  this  day. 

These  men  made  my  salon — and  it  was 
one,  truly!  Oh,  the  good  talk,  the  discussions, 
the  wit,  the  fun !  There  was  a  revolution  every 
now  and  then  to  enliven  us  and  an  earthquake 


38  RECOLLECTIONS 

to  terrify  us,  and  then  came  the  Civil  War  in 
America.  It  was  not  to  be  expected  that  an 
Irishman,  a  German  and  a  South  American 
could  view  the  matter  as  we  did,  and  oh,  the 
battles  that  were  fought  over  the  maps  spread 
on  the  billiard  table!  Now  and  then  the 
officers  from  our  ships  would  join  us,  and 
strengthen  our  side  in  the  discussion. 

Those  four  years  were  most  anxious  ones 
for  us.  My  husband's  family  were  Southern- 
ers, mine  from  the  North.  During  my  ab- 
sence, my  third  sister,  Caroline,  had  married 
Lieutenant  R.  G.  Lay,  so  I  had  two  brothers- 
in-law  in  the  Northern  army,  while  my  hus- 
band had  nephews  and  relatives  on  the  Con- 
federate side.  My  husband,  notwithstanding 
his  Southern  affiliations,  was  a  strong  Union 
man.  I  learned,  later,  that  his  relatives  at- 
tributed his  attitude  to  the  influence  of  his 
" Yankee  wife,"  but  I  am  happy  to  say  that 
my  influence  was  not  necessary,  though  I 
should  certainly  have  used  it  if  it  had  been. 
With  the  assistance  of  the  naval  officers,  we 
followed  the  course  of  our  armies,  and  the 
animated  discussions  between  them  and  my 
coterie  on  political  questions  gave  me  a  taste 
for  those  subjects  which  I  have  retained  to 
this  day.  Peruvian  politics  were  also  very 


PERU  39 

interesting,  because  we  lived  in  a  state  of 
chronic  revolution.  The  government  of  Peru 
occupied  the  singular  position  of  owning  the 
chief  source  of  wealth  of  the  country,  namely, 
the  guano,  and  after  a  defeated  party  made 
up  its  mind  that  those  who  were  in  had  made 
enough,  or,  as  we  should  say,  robbed  enough, 
they  made  a  revolution  and  turned  them  out 
— hence,  plots  and  conspiracies  without  end. 
My  South  American  friend  was  a  strong  mem- 
ber of  one  party,  and  on  a  certain  occasion, 
when  he  feared  that  he  might  have  to  escape 
from  the  country,  he  confided  the  party  cipher 
to  me  so  that  I  might  communicate  with  him 
if  necessary.  I  remember  how  proud  I  was  at 
such  confidence.  I  came  across  it  the  other 
day  and,  alas,  I  could  not  read  it! 

I  should  explain  the  nature  of  this  source 
of  Peruvian  wealth,  because,  in  speaking  of  it 
to  a  very  intelligent  woman  recently,  she  said 
she  thought  the  guano  was  a  fruit.  The 
Chincha  Islands,  about  a  hundred  miles  off 
the  coast  of  Peru,  have  been,  for  hundreds  or 
rather  thousands  of  years,  the  breeding  ground 
of  certain  birds,  whose  excrements  have 
formed  mountains  of  the  so-called  "  guano," 
which,  in  that  rainless  climate,  became  almost 
pure  ammonia,  making  the  most  valuable  fer- 


40  RECOLLECTIONS 

tilizer  known  to  the  scientific  agriculturist. 
The  value  was  known  to  the  ancient  Peru- 
vians, but  the  Spaniards  cared  nothing  for 
agriculture;  they  sought  their  riches  from  the 
mines.  Humboldt  called  attention  to  it  in 
1802;  but  it  was  not  until  1842  that  an  Eng- 
lishman sent  a  small  quantity  to  England  as 
an  experiment,  and  in  the  course  of  a  few 
years  the  results  were  so  satisfactory  that  the 
export  commenced  and  the  government  found 
that  those  barren  islands  were  more  precious 
than  the  mines  of  Potosi.  England,  France, 
Germany  and  America  formed  companies  and 
competed  with  each  other  for  the  contracts. 
Money  poured  into  the  Peruvian  exchequer — • 
and  the  government  was  so  paternal  that 
everybody  got  a  share  of  the  spoils.  I  remem- 
ber the  widow  of  a  general  who  received  seven 
thousand  dollars  a  year  pension.  She  married 
and  it  went  to  her  eldest  daughter,  and  she 
told  me  that  they  could  all  marry  but  the 
plainest,  who  must  remain  single  in  order  to 
keep  the  pension. 

Under  these  circumstances  it  can  be  easily 
understood  that,  with  a  people  naturally  dis- 
posed toward  revolutions,  there  was  plenty  of 
temptation  to  make  them,  and  some  were 
even  very  bloody. 


PERU  41 

On  one  occasion,  when  my  husband  had 
gone  off  for  a  few  days'  shooting,  I  was  awak- 
ened by  the  sound  of  musketry,  and  soon 
the  servants  rushed  to  my  door  to  tell  me  that 
there  had  been  a  fight  in  front  of  the  house 
and  that  the  people  were  lying  dead  in  the 
street.  It  was  a  feast  day  and  all  the  clerks 
had  gone  away,  and  as  I  knew  that  the  vaults 
of  the  bank  were  full  of  silver,  I  felt  rather 
nervous  lest  the  mob  might  break  in.  I  or- 
dered the  great  iron  doors  to  be  closed  and 
barred,  and  I  went  to  the  window  to  see  the 
condition  of  affairs.  At  each  end  of  the 
block,  cannon  had  been  placed,  and  soldiers 
were  on  duty.  This  rather  reassured  me,  and 
presently  my  opposite  neighbor,  M.  de  Les- 
seps,  French  Consul-General  and  brother  of 
F.  de  Lesseps,  of  Suez  Canal  fame,  called  to 
me  that,  as  he  knew  my  husband  was  absent, 
if  I  would  allow  him,  he  would  come  over  and 
hoist  his  flag  on  the  house  and  protect  me.  I 
gladly  accepted  so  gallant  an  offer,  and  for 
two  days  I  was  protected  by  the  French 'Em- 
pire. There  were  at  least  five  revolutions 
during  the  nine  years  we  lived  in  Lima,  so 
that  I  do  not  remember  precisely  how  this 
one  turned  out,  but  my  impression  is  that  it 
was  on  this  occasion  that  the  President  es- 


42  RECOLLECTIONS 

caped  to  a  man-of-war  in  Callao,  disguised  as 
a  woman,  in  the  carriage  of  the  American 
Minister.  The  defeated  officials  always  went 
to  France,  where  they  had  previously  de- 
posited the  profits  of  their  offices  against  a 
rainy  day.  Of  course,  money  so  easily  ob- 
tained was  spent  easily.  The  luxury  was  so 
great  that,  when  I  returned  home,  in  1869,  I 
remarked  on  the  simplicity  of  the  women's 
appearance  at  balls,  and  upon  the  lack  of 
jewels,  which  the  Peruvian  women  wore  so 
lavishly. 

I  have  said  nothing  about  the  social  life  in 
Lima.  In  a  certain  sense  there  was  no  society, 
as  we  understand  the  term.  The  life  was 
patriarchal.  The  heads  of  the  great  old  fami- 
lies lived  in  a  dignified  state,  receiving  every 
evening  the  junior  members  of  the  family  and 
poor  relations.  The  mother,  or  grandmother, 
always  sat  in  the  grand  salon  with  a  little 
group  of  old  men  and  ladies  around  her.  The 
younger  members  of  the  family  collected  in 
one  of  the  other  large  rooms,  and  tables  were 
set  out  where  men,  women  and  priests  played 
"rocamboa"  and  smoked  strong  cigars.  Poli- 
tics and  domestic  gossip  were  fertile  topics  of 
conversation.  There  was  always  a  revolution, 
just  passed  or  impending,  to  discuss.  In  a 


PERU  43 

country  where  divorce  did  not  exist  and  the 
"mariage  de  convenance"  was  de  rigueur,  love 
affairs  were  as  common  and  of  the  same  nature 
as  those  that  exist  to-day  in  Italy,  and  those  we 
read  of  in  the  pages  of  Saint  Simon.  The  Span- 
iards are  much  more  faithful  than  Frenchmen 
or  Italians,  and  these  irregular  attachments 
frequently  lasted  for  years,  and  if  the  incon- 
venient husband  or  wife  died,  often  ended  in 
marriage.  Flirtations,  as  we  would  call  them, 
were  not  tolerated,  but  a  serious  attachment 
was  accepted,  for  was  she  not  a  "des  gra- 
ciada"?  One  lover  was  allowable,  not  more. 
There  was  one  case  that  I  watched  with 
great  interest  and  sympathy.  She  had  been 
a  beautiful  girl,  married  at  fifteen  to  an  epi- 
leptic cousin  to  keep  the  fortune  in  the  family. 
He  took  her  to  his  estate  in  the  country,  where 
in  his  fits  of  fury  he  would  beat  her  unmerci- 
fully. In  one  of  these  attacks  he  injured  her 
spine  so  severely  that  she  became  lame  for 
life.  She  returned  to  her  home  in  Lima,  where 
she  inspired  a  fine  young  man  with  a  devoted 
attachment,  which  she  reciprocated,  and  for 
years  he  passed  every  evening  by  her  side,  as 
she  was  extended,  helpless,  on  her  chaise 
tongue  (where  I  have  often  seen  her).  Her 
friends  would  drop  in  to  speak  to  her,  but 


44  RECOLLECTIONS 

did  not  stay  long.  "'Twas  his  place  and  no 
one  presumed  to  usurp  it." 

As  in  France  and  Italy,  so  in  all  Spanish 
countries,  the  mother  or  grandmother  of  a 
family  has  supreme  authority.  It  is  she  who 
arranges  the  marriages,  reconciles  the  dis- 
putes, and  keeps  the  family  together.  The 
Spanish  laws  at  that  time  were  exceedingly 
favorable  to  women  (I  don't  know  whether 
they  have  since  been  changed).  The  wife 
inherited  half  the  profits  of  her  husband's 
estate  which  had  been  acquired  after  mar- 
riage, as  well  as  her  share  of  the  principal; 
and  if  by  chance  the  marriage  ceremony  had 
not  been  performed  before  the  birth  of  the 
children,  a  death-bed  ceremony  legitimized 
them,  and  regulated  the  status  of  the  wife. 

Illegitimate  children,  if  recognized  by  the 
father,  were  entitled  to  a  third  of  the  estate 
(that  is,  a  third  was  divided  among  them), 

and  bore  his  name.  Senor  D ,  so  well 

known  in  Paris  many  years  ago  and  who,  I 
believe,  at  one  time  held  a  big  position,  was 
the  son  of  a  rich  Spaniard  who  always  passed 
as  a  bachelor.  When  he  was  stricken  with 
paralysis,  he  sent  for  my  husband  to  witness 
his  will  and  acknowledged  the  parentage  of  a 
son  and  two  daughters,  between  whom  he 


PERU  45 

divided  his  millions.  (He  was  the  first  mil- 
lionaire I  ever  knew.)  The  girls,  unconscious 
of  their  origin,  were  in  a  convent  expecting  to 
remain  there  always.  They  were  withdrawn 
from  the  convent,  taken  to  their  father's  house, 
"clothed  in  purple  and  fine  linen,"  and  en- 
lightened as  to  their  birth  and  prospects.  The 
son  was  summoned  from  Europe.  He  arrived 
in  time  to  see  his  father  before  he  died,  and 
then  assumed  his  position  as  head  of  the  house 
and  guardian  of  his  sisters.  The  first  step  he 
took  was  to  invite  a  young  man  who  had  been 
kind  to  him  as  a  poor,  lonely  lad  in  Europe  to 
come  to  him,  introduced  him  to  his  sisters 
and  said,  "I  love  you  like  a  brother;  choose 
which  you  will  marry."  He  did  so,  and  for 
all  I  know,  they  were  happy  ever  after.  Senor 

D himself  sought  out  a  young  girl  he 

had  known  and  loved  when  he  was  poor,  and 
unrecognized  as  his  father's  son,  married  her; 
and  when  I  saw  her  in  her  beautiful  hotel,  in 
the  Avenue  du  Bois,  I  would  never  have  sus- 
pected her  humble  origin,  she  was  so  attractive 
and  at  ease  in  her  surroundings. 

One  of  my  favorite  resorts  was  the  "ter- 
tulia"  of  Dona  Ignacia — a  great  lady,  sim- 
ple and  dignified,  with  only  two  objects  in 
life,  her  family  and  the  Church.  She  lived  in 


46  RECOLLECTIONS 

a  stately  old  house,  the  floors  paved  with 
Moorish  tiles,  and  the  walls  covered  with  old 
portraits  in  frames  of  silver.  She  always  re- 
ceived sitting  in  a  superb  armchair  in  her  bed- 
room. The  bedstead  of  carved  oak  was  on  a 
dais,  with  a  canopy  hung  with  rich  brocade 
trimmed  with  old  Spanish  guipure.  The  toilet 
set,  as  well  as  her  whole  batterie  de  cuisine, 
was  of  silver.  The  mistress  of  all  this  was  a 
most  dignified  little  woman,  barely  five  feet 
high,  in  black  satin  and  lace  run0,  her  white 
hair  combed  straight  back  from  her  forehead 
and  drawn  up  in  a  knot  on  the  top  of  her 
head;  but  she  looked  "de  race,"  and  she  was 
so  regarded  by  everyone.  Dona  Ignacia's 
charities  were  vast.  Every  Saturday  the 
courtyard  of  her  house  was  filled  with  the 
poor  who  were  permitted  to  come  for  their 
weekly  alms,  and  she  inherited  the  right  to 
dress  the  Virgin  and  Saints  belonging  to  the 
great  church  of  St.  Augustine  near  her  house. 
Every  year  before  the  festival  of  the  Saint, 
he  and  the  Virgin  and  the  minor  saints  were 
brought  to  Dona  Ignacia's  house  to  receive 
their  new  garments.  It  used  to  be  one  of  my 
privileges  to  go  and  witness  the  performance. 
The  Virgin's  long  hair  was  combed  and  curled, 
her  old  clothes  were  bestowed  on  some  saintly 


PERU  47 

poor  relatives  and  new,  rich  ones — if  possible 
richer  than  the  last — given  in  their  place.  Her 
crown,  the  gift  of  an  ancestor  of  Dona  Ignacia, 
was  brought  out  together  with  the  jewels,  and 
the  Virgin  was  then  ready  for  her  trip  through 
the  city  in  company  with  St.  Augustine 
(also  newly  clothed),  and  the  attendant 
saints,  to  visit  Santo  Domingo,  where  they 
were  expected  to  pass  the  night. 

For  this  festival  the  whole  town  turned  out. 
Shops  and  offices  were  closed.  Priests  and 
laymen,  ladies  and  children  followed  the  pro- 
cession; incense  burned  and  trumpets  blew. 
I  am  sure  there  was  a  procession  of  this  kind, 
in  honor  of  some  saint,  at  least  once  a  fort- 
night during  the  year,  and  sometimes  busi- 
ness was  interrupted  for  three  days  in  succes- 
sion. From  Holy  Thursday  to  Easter  no 
vehicles  were  allowed  in  the  streets,  and  on 
Good  Friday  the  billiard  tables  were  all  cov- 
ered, and  men  and  women  wore  black.  Some 
of  the  ceremonies  were  grotesque.  In  the 
crypt  of  Santo  Domingo,  a  representation  of 
the  Lord's  Supper  was  always  given  on  Holy 
Thursday.  A  long  table  was  set  out  with 
various  kinds  of  viands,  of  painted  wood. 
Our  Saviour,  a  figure  as  large  as  life,  sat  at 
the  head  of  the  table  with  the  disciples  at 


48  RECOLLECTIONS 

each  side  all  in  black  robes,  except  Judas,  who 
was  in  scarlet,  the  purse  being  conspicuous  in 
his  hand.  Ail  the  disciples  had  cigarettes  in 
their  mouths,  but  our  Saviour  had  a  cigar. 
The  ceremony  of  carrying  the  Host  to  the  dy- 
ing was  done  with  great  pomp  and  ceremony. 
If  the  invalid  was  a  general  or  an  official  dig- 
nitary, a  band  of  music  accompanied  the 
priests,  and  played  dirges  in  the  patio  while 
extreme  unction  was  administered  in  the 
chamber  of  death.  The  performances  at  Car- 
nival were  most  curious.  I  never  knew  how 
the  custom  arose,  or  was  permitted,  of  drench- 
ing every  passer-by  in  the  street  with  water 
from  the  balconies;  but  it  was  such  fun  that  I 
know  I  used  to  stand  for  hours  at  my  bal- 
cony with  pails  of  water  which  I  poured  upon 
every  pedestrian  who  was  so  unwary  as  to 
pass  under  the  window,  and  as  I  was  con- 
cealed behind  a  lattice,  I  could  do  it  with 
impunity.  No  woman  dared  venture  into  the 
streets  during  those  days.  Sometimes  the 
young  men  of  one's  acquaintance  would  man- 
age to  get  into  the  house  and  retaliate,  and 
then  we  were  not  spared. 


PERU  49 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  NUN 

It  was  at  Dona  Ignacia's  house  that  I  saw 
the  young  girl  who  was  the  descendant  of  the 
nun  who  escaped  from  her  convent  with  a 
Scotch  doctor.  I  told  the  story  to  Marion 
Crawford,  and  from  it  he  wrote  his  novel  of 
"Casa  Braccio." 

I  will  write  the  story  as  I  told  it  to  him, 
and  which  he  said  was  the  only  story  that 
had  ever  been  told  him  that  he  could  use. 

I  went  one  evening  to  Dona  Ignacia's  ter- 
tulia  and  was  much  struck  by  the  appearance 
of  a  young  lady  I  had  never  seen  there  before, 
and  whose  personality  was  in  strong  contrast  to 
that  of  the  dark  Spanish  girls,  as  she  had  a  very 
fair  complexion  and  red  hair,  was  dressed  very 
simply  in  white,  and  with  a  superb  parure  of 
emeralds  around  her  neck.  I  asked  my  old 
friend  Don  Juan  Tavera  who  she  was.  "She 
is  a  Scotch  relative  of  Dona  Ignacia's,"  he 
replied.  "Thereby  hangs  a  very  interesting 
story;  I  will  go  to  see  you  to-morrow  and  tell 
it  to  you."  Accordingly,  the  next  day  he 
appeared,  and  after  being  provided  with  a 
cigar,  and  a  glass  of  lemonade  by  his  side,  he 
proceeded  to  tell  me  the  following  story: 


60  RECOLLECTIONS 

In  the  colonial  days  before  the  Independence, 
there  lived  in  Arequipa  a  very  powerful  family 
named  Goyos.  They  possessed  great  landed 
estates  and  rich  mines  which  they  had  inherited 
from  their  ancestors,  who  were  among  the 
conquerors,  and  they  wielded  great  power  in 
both  Church  and  State.  At  the  time  of  the 
incident  I  am  about  to  relate,  the  heads  of 
the  family  were  two  brothers;  the  elder  owned 
and  managed  the  property,  the  younger  was 
a  Bishop  and  ruled  the  Church.  The  elder 
was  a  widower  with  two  children,  a  son  and 
a  daughter.  The  great  convent  of  Nuestra 
Senora  de  los  Dolores,  founded  and  richly  en- 
dowed by  the  family,  always  had  one  of  its 
members  as  Abbess,  and  at  that  time  the 
brothers'  only  sister  was  the  Abbess.  It  will 
be  seen,  therefore,  that  the  family  was  the 
great  power  in  Arequipa,  and  the  chief  object 
in  life  of  the  brothers  and  sister  was  to  pre- 
serve their  supremacy.  For  this  object  they 
decided  that  the  young  daughter,  Dolores, 
should  enter  the  convent  and  eventually  suc- 
ceed her  aunt  as  Abbess,  while  her  brother 
should  marry  and  inherit  the  estates,  and  a 
young  priest,  one  of  their  relations,  would 
inherit  the  bishopric.  Dona  Dolores  had 
no  vocation  for  a  religious  life,  and  rebelled 


PERU  51 

against  the  fate  proposed  for  her;  but  the 
father  and  uncle  were  inexorable,  and  after  a 
vain  struggle  she  was  forced  to  yield,  accepted 
her  fate  and  took  the  veil.  Her  aunt  felt  sym- 
pathy for  the  poor  girl;  perhaps  she  had  been 
through  the  same  experience,  for  she  made 
Sister  Dolores'  religious  duties  as  light  as  pos- 
sible, allowed  her  to  lead  the  choir  (as  she 
had  a  fine  voice)  and  gave  her  the  business  of 
the  convent  to  attend  to.  Embroidery  was 
one  of  the  industries  of  the  nuns,  especially 
that  on  linen,  the  designs  for  which  were 
brought  from  Spain;  and  to  supervise  this 
work  and  to  take  care  of  it  was  one  of  Dolores' 
chief  pleasures.  She  always  sent  it  to  the 
laundry  herself,  received  it  when  it  was  re- 
turned, laid  it  carefully  in  the  presses  per- 
fumed with  jasmine  flowers,  and  the  laundress 
was  the  only  woman  from  the  outside  world 
with  whom  she  had  any  intercourse,  except 
her  family.  The  laundress  happened  to  be 
very  intelligent  and  gave  her  all  the  news  she 
ever  obtained  of  the  world  beyond  the  con- 
vent walls. 

Time  passed,  and  Dolores  had  been  about 
five  years  in  the  convent  when  her  aunt 
fell  ill,  and  all  the  nostrums  at  the  disposal 
of  the  nuns  failed  to  help  her.  She  grew 


52  RECOLLECTIONS 

worse  and  worse,  and  they  were  proposing 
to  give  her  the  last  offices  of  the  Church, 
when  the  laundress  suggested  to  Sister  Dolores 
that  the  great  Scotch  doctor  who  had  come 
to  Arequipa  should  be  consulted.  To  con- 
sult a  man  and  a  heretic!  Such  an  idea 
could  not  be  entertained  for  a  moment.  But 
the  laundress  was  so  insistent  that  the  Bishop 
was  consulted,  and  he  was  induced  to  con- 
sent; but  the  patient  refused  to  allow  the 
doctor  to  feel  her  pulse  or  look  at  her  tongue, 
or  even  to  see  her.  Sister  Dolores,  closely 
veiled,  could  describe  the  symptoms,  and  then 
the  doctor  could  prescribe.  Although  the  doc- 
tor said  that  an  opinion  under  such  circum- 
stances was  of  no  value,  he  consented,  as  such 
a  case  was  an  unusual  experience.  Accord- 
ingly, at  the  appointed  time,  he  presented 
himself  at  the  convent  gate,  under  the  guid- 
ance of  the  laundress,  and  was  taken  to  the 
antechamber  of  the  Abbess'  apartment — for  a 
great  lady  of  the  Abbess'  distinction  did  not 
sleep  in  a  cell.  He  was  received  by  Sister 
Dolores,  who  was  closely  veiled.  She  told 
him  her  aunt's  symptoms,  and  he  asked  her 
if  she  could  count  the  pulse.  "No,  I  have 
never  tried,"  she  replied.  "If  you  will  place 
your  fingers  on  my  wrist,  I  will  teach  you," 


PERU  63 

he  said.  Timidly  she  did  so.  "  Count,"  he 
said,  and  he  was  thrilled  by  the  music  of  her 
voice.  He  probably  prolonged  the  lesson  un- 
necessarily, for  she  said  at  last:  "I  under- 
stand perfectly;  I  will  go  now  and  count  my 
aunt's  pulse."  She  returned  presently,  with 
a  written  report.  During  her  absence  the 
doctor  made  inquiries  of  the  laundress  in  re- 
gard to  the  Abbess'  symptoms,  and  decided 
that  the  old  lady  was  suffering  from  cancer, 
and  had  not  long  to  live;  but  Sister  Dolores 
had  made  too  profound  an  impression  for  him 
to  give  up  the  case,  so  he  prescribed  some 
soothing  remedies,  and  offered  to  return  in  the 
morning.  These  visits  continued  for  several 
days,  until  finally  he  succeeded  in  seeing  Sister 
Dolores'  beautiful  face.  The  laundress  could 
not  always  be  in  attendance,  and  the  narcotics 
dulled  the  vigilance  of  the  Abbess.  Finally  the 
doctor  realized  that  his  patient's  days  were 
numbered,  and  then  his  work  would  be  over. 
There  was  no  tune  to  lose.  I  pass  over 
the  conscientious  scruples  of  Sister  Dolores; 
love  as  usual  won  the  day,  and  she  promised 
to  fly  with  her  lover  after  her  aunt  had 
passed  away. 

The  plot  for  escape  was  ingenious.     The 
convent  was  built  of  stone,  and  the  sisters' 


54  RECOLLECTIONS 

cells  were  arched  like  casements,  the  only 
wood  about  them  being  the  doors.  The 
doctor  obtained  a  skeleton  from  the  hos- 
pital, which  he  conveyed  to  the  laundress* 
house,  and  placed  it  in  the  large  basket  in 
which  she  conveyed  the  linen  to  the  convent. 
The  day  after  the  Abbess'  funeral,  which  was 
conducted  with  great  pomp,  the  laundress 
carried  her  basket  to  the  convent  and  con- 
cealed the  skeleton  in  Dolores'  bed.  That 
night  Dolores  set  her  bed  on  fire,  and  in  the 
confusion  occasioned  by  the  smoke  and  alarm 
she  escaped  to  the  street,  where  the  laundress 
met  her  and  led  her  to  her  house.  The 
frightened  nuns  sought  in  vain  for  Dolores; 
a  few  bones  were  found  in  her  cell,  which  in 
their  ignorance  they  imagined  to  be  hers. 
She  was  accordingly  buried  with  all  the 
honors  due  to  her  rank  and  station,  and  the 
family  looked  for  another  Abbess  among  their 
number.  Meanwhile  poor  Dolores  was  in  a 
most  difficult  position.  If  she  were  discovered 
she  would  be  tried  for  the  greatest  of  crimes; 
a  nun  who  had  been  faithless  to  her  vows  would 
be  buried  alive.  Where  was  she  to  go? 
What  was  she  to  do?  It  was  impossible  to 
conceal  her  long  in  the  laundress'  house. 
The  doctor  implored  her  to  fly  with  him  to 


PERU  55 

the  coast.  Arequipa  was  about  seventy  miles 
inland,  over  a  desert  to  be  passed  only  on 
mule  or  horseback.  She  recoiled  from  such 
a  step,  and  insisted  upon  trying  first  to  win 
the  pardon  and  protection  of  her  family. 
She  resolved  to  throw  herself  upon  the  mercy 
of  her  uncle,  the  Bishop,  who  had  always 
showed  much  affection  for  her,  and  who  was 
all-powerful  with  the  rest  of  the  family.  Ac- 
cordingly, about  twilight,  wrapped  hi  her 
manta,  which  concealed  her  face  and  form, 
she  stole  into  the  palace  and  found  her  uncle 
at  evening  prayer.  She  threw  herself  on  her 
knees  before  him  and  implored  his  protection. 
He  thought  it  was  her  ghost,  for  had  he  not 
performed  the  funeral  service  over  her  poor 
remains?  When  he  discovered  that  it  was 
really  she,  in  flesh  and  blood,  he  was  horri- 
fied, and  thrust  her  from  him  as  he  would  a 
viper.  But  she  still  clung  to  him  and  told 
her  story,  imploring  his  mercy  and  protection. 
He  listened,  and  finally  said:  "Wait  a  mo- 
ment," and  left  the  room,  returning  shortly 
with  a  bag  which  he  thrust  into  her  hand, 
and  whispered:  "Take  this  and  fly  with  your 
lover  to  the  coast.  I  will  see  that  you  are 
not  followed."  She  found  the  doctor  with 
horses  at  the  gate;  he  took  her  in  his  arms  and 


56  RECOLLECTIONS 

rode  away,  never  stopping  but  to  change  horses 
and  to  eat  a  little  food,  until  they  reached  the 
coast,  where  by  great  good  fortune  they  found 
an  English  frigate  at  anchor.  They  went  on 
board,  told  the  captain  their  story;  he  called 
the  chaplain,  who  did  his  duty  gladly,  and 
soon  the  happy  pair  were  on  their  way  to 
England. 

Time  passed,  the  South  American  colonies 
became  independent  of  Spain,  and  Dolores' 
brother  was  sent  as  Minister  to  England. 
Before  he  went,  the  Bishop  told  him  his  sis- 
ter's story;  he  had  kept  the  secret  until  then. 
He  also  told  him  where  she  was  to  be  found, 
for  through  the  Church  he  had  watched  over 
her,  and  he  desired  her  brother  to  communi- 
cate with  her,  which  he  did.  And  Dolores 
was  forgiven,  and  her  children  and  grand- 
children were  recognized  and  received  by 
their  Peruvian  relatives.  The  young  girl  I 
saw  at  Dona  Ignacia's  was  the  great-grand- 
daughter of  Sister  Dolores,  and  the  emeralds 
I  saw  around  her  neck  were  in  the  bag  that 
the  Bishop  thrust  into  his  niece's  hand  when 
he  bade  her  fly  for  her  life. 

One  of  my  favorite  recreations  during  these 
many  feast  days  was  to  make  up  parties  and 


PERU  57 

ride  into  the  country  to  dig  for  pottery  in  the 
ancient  Peruvian  mounds,  of  which  there  were 
several  within  twenty  miles  of  Lima.  Start- 
ing at  daybreak,  our  delightful  pacing  horses 
would  bring  us  to  our  destination  without 
fatigue,  and  then  the  shovels  would  be  brought 
into  use,  sometimes  with  interesting  results. 
During  my  residence  there  I  acquired  a  large 
collection  of  jars,  figures,  etc.,  which  would 
now  be  very  valuable.  But  as  travellers 
came  and  admired  them,  I  would  give  them 
away,  saying  that  I  could  always  replace 
them.  Finally  I  got  tired  of  collecting,  and 
by  the  time  I  left  the  country  I  had  none 
to  bring  away  with  me.  I  was  then  ignorant 
of  their  archaeological  interest,  as  well  as  the 
value  of  the  old  silver  and  paintings  which  I 
might  have  acquired  for  a  song;  also  of  the 
laces  made  in  the  convents  after  the  old  Span- 
ish designs;  and  I  shall  never  cease  to  regret 
my  ignorance  of  the  rarity  and  beauty  of  the 
Moorish  tiles  which  covered  the  walls  of 
the  convents,  and  one  special  opportunity  I 
lost  when  I  might  have  had  given  to  me  the 
whole  tiled  wall  of  a  vast  court  of  a  convent, 
on  which  was  represented  the  life  of  St. 
Francis,  and  which  was  being  demolished  in 
order  to  build  a  railway  station.  Twenty-five 


58  RECOLLECTIONS 

years  after,  I  paid  ten  dollars  for  a  single  tile 
and  thought  it  cheap;  but  in  those  twenty- 
five  years  I  had  learned  a  thing  or  two. 

We  hear  a  great  deal  nowadays  about  the 
simple  life,  and  we  see  a  good  many  abortive 
attempts  to  lead  it.  The  Spanish  people  did 
it  without  knowing  it.  I  say  Spanish  people, 
for  although  the  Peruvians  had  become  inde- 
pendent of  Spain,  they  had  not  changed  their 
traditions  or  habits.  Twenty  years  after, 
when  I  went  to  Seville,  I  felt  perfectly  at 
home,  even  to  the  accent  of  the  language, 
which  was  that  of  Lima.  Lima  was  the  seat 
of  the  Spanish  Viceroy,  and  he  and  the  repre- 
sentatives of  the  mother  country  lived  in 
great  state.  The  lands  were  bestowed  by  the 
Spanish  kings  to  court  favorites,  and  after 
the  Independence,  their  descendants  main- 
tained their  affiliation  with  Spain  and  were 
proud  of  their  blue  blood.  There  was  one  old 
family  who  boasted  of  its  descent,  on  the 
female  side,  from  the  daughter  of  Atahuallpa, 
the  last  Peruvian  king,  murdered  by  Pizarro, 
as  some  of  our  Virginian  families  boast  of 
their  descent  from  Pocahontas. 

But  I  must  explain  what  I  mean  by  the 
simple  life.  I  was  much  pleased  on  one  oc- 
casion to  be  invited  to  pass  pascua  (the 


PERU  59 

Easter  holidays)  at  a  great  hacienda  in  the 
south,  where  I  was  offered  the  prospect  of 
some  good  riding  on  the  finest  breed  of 
horses  in  the  country.  My  husband,  who 
knew  the  customs,  advised  me  to  take  a 
mattress,  bed  linen,  and  whatever  personal 
comforts  I  might  require,  but  I  disregarded 
his  suggestion  as  an  insult  to  my  host  and 
confined  my  " comforts"  to  what  I  generally 
carry  in  my  travelling  bag.  I  found  the 
house  a  vast  one-storied  structure  built  around 
a  court.  Although  in  a  most  fertile  province 
and  a  perfect  climate,  there  was  not  a  tree, 
shrub  or  flower  in  sight.  I  was  ushered  into 
a  vast  salon,  the  only  furniture  some  hard 
divans  around  the  walls  and  a  table  in  the 
centre  of  the  room.  The  dining-room  ad- 
joining had  nothing  in  it  but  a  huge  table  and 
some  chairs,  and  on  a  side-table  was  a  lot  of 
crockery  of  the  most  common  quality,  and 
piled  up  at  one  end  were  forks  and  spoons  in 
profusion.  I  thought  they  were  pewter,  they 
were  so  black,  but  learned  later  that  they, 
with  the  massive  candlesticks,  were  of  silver 
made  by  the  Indians  from  the  family  mines  in 
Potosi  long  ago.  In  my  bedroom  was  a  bed 
frame ;  on  it  was  stretched  a  hide,  neither  mat- 
tress nor  pillows,  sheets  nor  blankets,  and  I 


60  RECOLLECTIONS 

found  that  my  husband  was  right.  The  guests 
were  expected  to  provide  their  own.  On  mak- 
ing known  to  the  hostess  my  ignorance  of  the 
custom,  some  sheets  trimmed  with  superb 
lace,  like  that  for  which  we  now  pay  any 
price  from  the  convents  in  Spain  and  Italy, 
were  brought  in,  and  some  blankets ;  but  I  was 
assured  by  the  stout  negress  who  officiated  as 
my  maid,  that  the  hide  was  much  cooler  and 
better  than  a  mattress,  and  so  I  found  it. 
Her  mistress's  toilet  set  of  silver  (never 
cleaned),  with  which  she  always  travelled,  was 
loaned  to  me,  and  with  this  I  managed  very 
well.  The  food  was  of  the  simplest.  The 
bread  was  brought  from  Lima.  Although 
hundreds,  I  may  say  thousands,  of  head  of 
cattle  roamed  over  the  estate,  I  never  saw  a 
cup  of  milk  nor  a  bit  of  butter.  Our  food  was 
kid  and  chickens,  and  the  delicious  yellow 
potatoes  for  which  the  country  is  famous  and 
which  have  never  been  successfully  cultivated 
elsewhere.  The  owners  of  this  estate  lived  in 
a  superb  house  in  Lima,  perfectly  kept  up, 
made  frequent  visits  to  Europe,  yet  when  they 
went  to  their  country  home  they  lived  con- 
tentedly as  I  have  described  it,  and  that  is 
what  I  mean  by  their  "simple  life." 

On  the  other  hand,  I  got  what  I  went  for. 


PERU  61 

I  have  ridden  English  thoroughbreds  and 
Arabs  from  the  Sultan's  stables,  but  for  pure 
enjoyment  nothing  ever  approached  the  action 
of  those  Peruvian  stallions  as  they  galloped 
over  those  plains  in  pursuit  of  their  untamed 
brethren.  Then  the  young  bulls  were  brought 
into  the  ring,  and  harmless  bull  fights  were 
improvised  for  my  benefit.  They  were  all 
destined  for  the  ring  in  Lima,  being  of  the  most 
famous  breed  in  the  country. 

Well,  the  years  rolled  on  peacefully,  the 
Civil  War  was  over,  and  we  began  to  think  of 
returning  home  when  a  war  cloud  from  an- 
other quarter  darkened  our  horizon.  Spain 
had  never  acknowledged  the  independence  of 
Peru  and  there  arose  some  questions  between 
the  two  countries  which  seemed  so  impossible 
to  settle  that  Spain  sent  out  a  squadron  to  en- 
force her  demands.  It  was  difficult  for  us  to 
believe  that  she  would  do  this;  but  one  fine 
day  my  husband  received  news  through  the 
American  Commodore  that  six  Spanish  men- 
of-war  were  at  a  short  distance  down  the 
coast  on  their  way  to  bombard  the  forts  of 
Callao  (the  port  of  Lima),  and  he  proposed  that 
we  should  come  aboard  his  ship,  the  Pow- 
hatan,  as  a  place  of  safety,  since  as  in  his 
opinion  the  Spaniards  would  probably  land  and 


62  RECOLLECTIONS 

destroy  the  town.  A  large  squadron  com- 
posed of  American,  English,  French  and 
German  men-of-war  was  assembled  to  watch 
the  Spaniards;  and  I  shall  never  forget  the 
profound  impression  which  this  first  sight  of  a 
great  fleet  made  upon  me  as  I  sat  on  the  deck 
of  the  Powhatan,  waiting  for  the  arrival  of 
the  Spanish  ships.  The  foreign  vessels  were 
drawn  up  in  the  shape  of  a  half  moon  to  the 
north  of  Callao.  The  Spaniards,  about  noon, 
steamed  slowly  up  from  the  south  and  opened 
fire,  which  was  quickly  returned  by  the  forts. 
Our  ship  was  so  near  that  through  my  opera 
glass  I  could  see  the  men  at  their  guns  and  the 
ricochets  of  the  ball  before  it  struck  the  fort. 
The  bombardment  lasted  six  hours,  until  two 
Spanish  vessels  were  disabled  and  the  Spanish 
Admiral  wounded;  then  they  retired,  not 
discovering  that  they  had  dismounted  every 
gun  but  one  on  the  fort.  The  fleet  then  went 
south,  bombarded  the  defenseless  port  of 
Valparaiso  and  sailed  for  Spain,  leaving  the 
question  unsettled.  When,  many  years  after, 
the  Americans  were  so  alarmed  at  the  prospect 
of  the  attack  on  our  coast  by  the  Spanish 
fleet,  and  the  Bostonians  were  sending  their 
bonds  to  Worcester,  I  said :  "  Don't  be  worried. 
I  have  seen  them.  I  know  them.  They 


PERU  63 

won't  do  us  any  harm."  The  spectacle  of  the 
bombardment  was  thrilling  in  the  extreme. 
I  was  so  near,  I  almost  felt  that  I  was  taking 
part  in  the  action,  and  I  have  never  heard  of 
another  woman  who  has  been  so  fortunate  as 
to  witness  a  naval  engagement  from  the  deck 
of  a  frigate. 

South  America  is  the  country  of  earth- 
quakes. We  always  had  one  or  two  shocks 
every  month,  but  they  were  generally  so  slight 
that  we  learned  to  disregard  them.  The  one 
of  1868,  however,  was  so  memorable  as  to  dis- 
turb me  even  now  as  I  think  of  it.  The 
country  was  shaken  from  the  foot  of  Chile  to 
the  centre  of  Ecuador.  The  fine  town  of 
Arequipa,  two  hundred  miles  inland,  built  of 
stone,  and  in  the  most  massive  manner,  was 
demolished.  As  the  old  Bishop  said  to  me: 
"I  thought  the  last  trump  was  sounding  and 
the  end  of  the  world  had  come."  On  the 
coast,  the  towns  of  Arica  and  Iquique,  built  of 
wood,  were  rent  to  atoms.  The  tidal  wave 
which  followed  the  earthquake  carried  the 
American  iron  sloop-of-war  Wateree  far  out  to 
sea,  and  the  return  wave  threw  her  back  intact, 
with  men  and  armament,  three  miles  on  to  the 
shore,  where  I  saw  her  a  few  weeks  afterwards. 
I  was  sitting  in  my  salon  about  five  P.M.  that 


64  RECOLLECTIONS 

day,  when  I  was  startled  by  the  violent  vibra- 
tion of  the  glass  chandelier.  I  knew  what  it 
meant,  and  rushed  to  the  great  staircase, 
where  I  found  my  husband  coming  to  meet  me. 
We  staggered  down  into  the  "  patio, "  to  find 
the  whole  personnel  of  the  establishment 
huddled  together  under  the  great  archway, 
always  considered  the  safest  place.  The  scene 
in  the  street  was  indescribable :  men,  women 
and  children  on  their  knees,  invoking  the  pro- 
tection of  their  patron  saints,  the  church  bells 
clanging,  dogs  barking,  donkeys  braying,  and 
all  this  in  less  than  a  minute.  Lima  escaped 
serious  damage.  Our  fine  old  house,  built  of 
adobe  bricks,  the  walls  three  feet  thick,  did  not 
suffer  seriously,  only  a  few  cracks,  but  farther 
north  the  devastation  was  fearful.  A  great 
land  owner  in  Ecuador  told  me  that  such  was 
the  destruction  he  could  not  define  the  land- 
marks of  his  estate. 

I  must  not  omit  an  amusing  experience  I  had 
in  an  attempt  to  civilize  a  little  savage. 
There  came  to  Lima  a  Scotchman  who  had 
been  knocking  about  the  world  all  his  life,  very 
amusing  and,  I  fancy,  as  unscrupulous  as  he 
was  adventurous,  but  he  had  the  manners  and 
breeding  of  a  man  of  the  world  and  he  was  on 
friendly  terms  with  us.  In  course  of  time  he 


PERU  65 

made  a  contract  with  the  Peruvian  Govern- 
ment to  bring  a  cargo  of  the  natives  of  New 
Caledonia  to  the  Chincha  Islands,  to  load  the 
guano  ships.  My  husband  insisted  that  it  was 
another  name  for  the  slave  trade  and  expressed 
his  opinion  of  such  business  in  no  measured 
terms  to  Mr.  B—  — .  As  I  listened  to  the  dis- 
cussion, I  expressed  the  wish  to  have  a  chance  to 
take  a  little  savage  girl  and  see  what  I  could  do 

with  her,  and  Mr.  B immediately  offered 

to  bring  me  one,  and  in  subsequent  talks  on 
the  sub j  ec 1 1  always  called  her ' '  Zoe. ' '  Months 

passed  and  Mr.  B did  not  reappear,  and  I 

had  almost  forgotten  the  incident,  when  one 
day  my  husband  came  in  and  said:  "Well,  my 
dear,  'Zoe'  has  come."  There  was  a  note  in 
his  voice  which  indicated  disgust,  as  he  added : 
"Mr.  B died  on  the  voyage  and  the  cap- 
tain of  the  vessel  wishes  to  know  what  to  do 
with '  Zoe.'  She  is  almost  five  years  old,  is  the 
only  female  on  board,  and  so  far  they  have 
never  been  able  to  induce  her  to  wear  any 
clothing."  Imagine  my  dismay!  The  cap- 
tain was  sent  for.  He  said  Mr.  B—  -  had  told 
him  the  child  was  mine;  that  he  had  tried 
to  tame  her,  but  that  she  was  like  a  little  wild 
animal.  The  sailors  had  made  clothes  for  her, 
but  she  would  not  keep  them  on,  and  he  added 


66  RECOLLECTIONS 

gravely,  "  Madam,  you  cannot  bring  her  to 
this  house."  I  suggested  sending  her  back  to 
her  native  wilds,  but  the  ship  was  not  going 
back.  I  could  not  induce  my  husband  to  give 
an  opinion.  He  threw  the  decision  up  en  me 
and  enjoyed  my  discomfiture.  That  evening 
I  laid  the  case  before  the  habitues  of  the  salon. 
The  German  shouted  and  laughed  like  a  boy, 
and  proposed  to  drown  her  like  a  puppy; 
the  clergyman  gravely  rebuked  him,  and 
spoke  of  her  immortal  soul;  whereupon  the 
South  American  exclaimed:  "I  have  it.  We 
will  put  her  in  a  convent! "  This  suggestion 
met  with  a  shout  of  approval.  From  time 
immemorial,  in  Catholic  countries,  the  con- 
vents have  been  the  refuges  of  the  feeble- 
minded and  undesirable  members  of  the  rich 
families  who  have  founded  them.  The  nuns 
take  care  of  the  unfortunates,  and  they  pass 
their  days  in  the  peaceful  seclusion  of  the 
cloisters,  performing  household  duties  and 
embroidering  garments  for  the  saints  and 
priests.  Our  friend's  suggestion  was  received 
with  acclamation  and  he  undertook  to  make 
the  necessary  arrangements.  He  assured  me 
that  the  nuns  of  a  very  ascetic  convent  he  knew 
of  would  welcome  the  appearance  of  such  an 
unusual  inmate  in  their  monotonous  life,  and 


PERU  67 

so  it  proved.  "Zoe"  was  induced  to  put  on  a 
chemise  and  a  petticoat,  and  wrapped  in  a 
cloak,  she  was  conveyed  to  the  convent  direct 
from  the  ship.  It  was  not  considered  prudent 
to  have  her  come  to  my  house.  She  must  not 
know  that  there  was  any  world  beyond  the 
convent,  or  any  people  but  the  nuns,  for 
fear  of  making  her  discontented;  and  so  the 
little  savage  entered  into  her  new  life,  and 
after  much  tribulation  was  tamed  and  civ- 
ilized and  became  a  good  Catholic,  and  took 
the  veil. 

The  Spaniards  having  departed,  we  were 
free  to  do  so  as  well,  and  we  turned  our  faces 
homeward.  One  does  not  sever  the  ties  of  so 
many  years  without  a  struggle.  I  had  learned 
to  love  the  country,  the  people,  the  language 
and  the  life.  I  had  gone  there  a  girl ;  I  was  re- 
turning a  mature  woman,  to  commence  life 
again.  I  was  to  break  up  the  house  of  which  I 
had  been  the  centre,  to  part  from  the  friends 
who  had  contributed  so  greatly  to  my  happi- 
ness! While  I  was  deploring  the  prospect  be- 
fore me,  the  German,  who  had  been  to  Chile, 
returned  and  informed  me  that  he  was  engaged 
to  be  married  and  should  take  his  wife  to 
Germany.  The  South  American  decided  to  go 
to  New  York,  and  the  clergyman  declared  he 


68  RECOLLECTIONS 

,/ 

would  not  remain  without  us  and  that  he 
would  return  to  Ireland. 

And  now  the  second  epoch  of  my  life  had 
come  to  a  close,  and  as  I  look  back  upon  it  I 
ask  myself  how  could  the  experience  of  the  past 
prepare  me  for  what  the  future  had  in  store 
for  me.  I  had  a  serene,  happy  existence,  no 
anxieties,  no  sorrow  and  few  serious  respon- 
sibilities. I  stepped  from  girlhood  into  mar- 
ried life,  and  my  husband,  who  was  many 
years  my  senior,  was  always  indulgent  and 
affectionate.  He  was  not  fond  of  general 
society,  but  was  most  hospitable,  so  that  I 
always  had  friends  around  me,  and  being  the 
only  American  woman  in  Lima,  I  was  the 
centre  of  a  little  circle  both  interesting  and  in- 
spiring. During  all  those  years  the  family 
circle  at  home  remained  unbroken.  Sickness 
and  death  had  not  approached  them  and  I 
could  not  foresee  that  during  the  next  ten 
years  I  was  to  part  from  husband,  parents  and 
sisters,  as  well  as  several  of  my  sister's  children. 
It  was  with  a  sad  heart  that  I  bade  good-bye 
to  Peru,  to  our  many  friends  and  to  the 
beautiful,  stately  house  which  had  been  my 
home  for  so  long,  and  sailed  for  New  York,  in 
April,  1869 — to  start  a  new  home  in  our  native 
land  after  an  absence  of  nearly  ten  years. 


FAMILY  AND  FRIENDS 
1869 

ON  our  arrival  in  New  York,  we  first  went 
to  the  house  of  my  brother-in-law,  Mr. 
Levi  P.  Morton,  where  my  dear  parents  and  my 
sister  Caroline  and  her  husband,  Col.  Richard 
G.  Lay,  and  my  youngest  sister,  Fanny,  came 
to  welcome  us.  Caroline's  marriage  had 
taken  place  during  my  absence,  and  she  had 
been  following  her  soldier  husband  from  post 
to  post  with  her  children  since  the  close  of 
the  war.  She  had  all  the  vivacity  and  pluck 
at  that  time  which  she  has  displayed  ever 
since  in  the  circumstances  of  a  varied  life, 
and  has  brought  up  a  family  of  children  who 
have  not  done  us  discredit. 

My  sister,  Fanny,  was  perhaps  the  most 
naturally  gifted  of  us  all.  An  accident  to  her 
hip  confined  her  to  her  bed  for  three  years, 


70  RECOLLECTIONS 

and,  in  spite  of  the  skill  of  the  best  surgeons 
of  that  time,  she  was  lame  for  the  rest  of  her 
life. 

We  passed  our  first  summer  in  travel,  and 
at  Newport.  While  at  Newport,  at  Mr. 
Morton's  house,  I  had  the  pleasure  of  meet- 
ing General  (then  President)  Grant  and  his 
wife.  There  was  to  be  a  large  dinner  the 
evening  of  their  arrival  and  their  luggage 
did  not  come.  My  sister  dressed  Mrs.  Grant 
in  one  of  her  Worth  gowns,  and  the  French 
maid  arranged  her  hair,  and  such  was  the 
transformation  that  the  President  exclaimed: 
"Why,  mother,  is  this  you!  I  didn't  know 
you."  I  did  not  find  the  President  taciturn 
and  unresponsive  to  social  amenities. 

With  him  was  his  aide-de-camp,  General 
Porter,  who,  after  a  distinguished  career  in 
the  army,  has  filled  several  important  posts, 
among  them  Ambassador  to  France,  and  is 
now  one  of  our  most  honored  and  distin- 
guished citizens.  He  is,  I  am  happy  to  say, 
one  of  my  most  intimate  and  valued  friends. 
It  was  during  this  visit  of  the  President  that 
the  project  of  Mr.  Morton's  entrance  into 
public  life  crystallized  and  he  became  one  of 
General  Grant's  strong  supporters. 

I  failed  to  feel  at  home  that  summer  at 


FAMILY  AND  FRIENDS  71 

Newport,  and  was  glad  to  go  with  my  hus- 
band to  New  York  in  the  early  autumn  to 
look  for  a  house  for  ourselves  and  get  set- 
tled. My  father  and  mother  were  kind 
enough  to  come  to  us,  so  that  winter  a  house- 
hold was  formed  without  delay  and  the  new 
life  commenced. 

I  wish  here  to  speak  of  my  parents.  My 
dear  mother  died  in  1876,  a  terrible  loss  to 
me.  We  were  always  absolutely  congenial. 
She  never  failed  to  write  to  me  once  a  week 
during  my  long  absence  in  South  America, 
so  that  the  tie  between  us  had  never  been 
strained.  She  took  the  deepest  interest  in 
public  matters,  was  a  great  reader,  a  most 
agreeable  talker,  of  gracious  manners,  and 
popular  with  old  and  young.  I  have  never 
met  anyone  who  combined  the  intellectual 
and  practical  qualities  more  absolutely  than 
she.  She  superintended  the  affairs  of  a  large 
family  calmly  and  without  friction,  and  at  the 
same  time  followed  the  course  of  politics  and 
literature  with  keen  interest. 

My  dear  father  died  a  few  years  after  her, 
at  the  ripe  age  of  eighty-two.  For  several 
years  before  his  death  he  occupied  his  leisure 
by  writing  a  metrical  version  of  the  New 
Testament,  which  I  have  always  thought 


72  RECOLLECTIONS 

should  have  been  introduced  into  the  Sun- 
day schools,  as  the  rhyme  would  impress  the 
text  upon  the  minds  of  the  young  who  could 
thus  memorize  it.  My  father  was  one  of  the 
early  abolitionists.  I  remember  the  story 
told  me  when  I  was  a  child,  that  he  came 
home  from  a  missionary  conference  on  one 
occasion  and  told  my  mother  that  he  had 
invited  a  colored  clergyman  to  dinner.  He 
explained  that  the  presiding  officer  had  asked 
the  residents  of  the  town  to  offer  hospitality 
to  the  visiting  brethren.  All  were  invited 
but  one,  and  the  question  was  asked:  "Who 
will  invite  our  colored  brother?"  and  my 
father  stepped  forward  and  did  so.  He 
owned  he  felt  a  little  nervous  as  he  made  the 
confession,  but  my  mother  made  no  objec- 
tion. They  waited  some  time  and  the  visitor 
did  not  appear,  so  they  ate  their  dinner  and 
he  came  in  later  and  apologized,  saying  that 
he  was  "unavoidably  detained."  So  the 
colored  problem  commenced  to  be  agitated 
in  my  family  and  was  settled,  so  far  as  we 
were  concerned,  over  seventy  years  ago. 

My  father  was  much  in  advance  of  his 
time,  and  deeply  interested  in  two  subjects 
which  are  much  in  the  foreground  at  the 
present  day — scientific  agriculture  and  pop 


FAMILY  AND  FRIENDS  73 

ular  education.  During  my  childhood,  I 
watched  the  planting  of  trees,  the  experiments 
in  propagation  of  plants  and  fruits  on  the 
Long  Island  farm,  so  that  I  was  uncon- 
sciously prepared  to  appreciate  later  Bur- 
bank's  wonderful  discoveries  and  Gifford 
Pinchot's  efforts  to  save  our  forests  and 
streams.  My  father  defended  the  cause  of 
coeducation,  and  always  deplored  that  he 
had  no  boys  to  bring  up  with  his  girls  and, 
if  my  mother  would  have  consented,  he 
would  have  had  us  trained  in  a  college  course; 
but  she  protested  that  she  wished  us  to  have 
feminine  attainments  only,  to  marry  early, 
and  she  had  her  wish,  for  four  of  her  daughters 
married  before  they  were  twenty-one. 

To  return  to  New  York.  My  first  year  at 
home  was  uneventful.  I  felt  a  stranger.  I 
even  spoke  English  with  a  Spanish  accent, 
and  my  father  used  to  threaten  to  tie  my 
hands,  I  gesticulated  so  much.  My  sister, 
Mary,  was  in  Russia  with  her  husband,  and 
I  missed  her  greatly. 

Fortunately  for  me,  the  dear  friend  of  my 
childhood,  Aline  Woodworth,  returned  from 
Europe  at  this  time,  a  widow  with  her  infant 
daughter,  and  we  took  up  our  old  intimacy, 
which  has  never  since  been  interrupted.  I 


74  RECOLLECTIONS 

am  very  sure  that  no  one  ever  knew  this 
rare  woman  but  to  love  and  praise  her,  a 
gentlewoman  in  every  sense,  intellectual,  gen- 
erous and  gracious.  Thank  God!  she  still 
lives  and  is  still  my  dear  friend. 

I  suppose  it  is  because  I  have  never  had 
children  that  my  friends  have  been  so  much 
to  me,  have  rilled  such  an  important  part  in 
my  life.  Other  people  have  loved  their  friends 
as  deeply,  but  have  not  had  the  time  to  give 
to  friendship  that  I  have  had.  Since  my 
widowhood  I  have  made  long  visits  to  my 
friends :  at  their  country  places  on  the  Hudson, 
in  Lenox  and  Bar  Harbor,  and  in  their  city 
homes.  And  they  have  come  to  me,  in  Wash- 
ington, where  their  visits,  with  the  many  things 
we  have  done  together  and  the  many  interest- 
ing people  we  have  seen,  have  been  and  are 
among  my  chief  pleasures. 

But  now  I  am  recalling  my  life  in  New  York, 
and  my  friends  there.  I  always  associate 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  William  T.  Blodgett  with  their 
New  York  City  home,  and  with  the  boundless 
hospitality,  courtesy  and  broad  interests  which 
were  always  to  be'f ound  under  that  roof.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Blodgett  were  tall  and  handsome, 
and  I  always  think  of  her  as  a  "grande  dame," 
in  her  dignity,  and  simple,  charming  manners. 


FAMILY  AND  FRIENDS  75 

Their  tastes  were  artistic,  and  Mr.  Blodgett's 
picture  gallery  was  one  of  the  first  private 
galleries  in  New  York  to  be  shown  to  the 
public.  Very  beautiful  pictures  he  had.  They 
are  now,  for  the  most  part,  scattered;  but 
among  the  choicest  are  those  which  have  been 
given  to  the  Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art 
by  Mr.  and  Miss  Blodgett  in  memory  of  their 
parents.  Eleanor  Blodgett  I  have  known  since 
she  was  a  child,  and  she  is  one  of  the  dear 
young  friends  of  my  later  years.  At  one  time 
we  worked  together  on  the  same  commit- 
tee for  "First  Aid  to  the  Injured";  but  I 
associate  her  more  especially  with  her  love 
for  beautiful  things,  her  social  gifts,  her 
hospitality,  her  sympathy  with  all  in  trouble, 
her  great  kindness  to  many. 

Another  friend  who  will  appear  often  in 
this  history  is  Virginia  Osborn.*  How  can 
I  describe  her?  She  always  seemed  to  me 
made  of  different  clay  from  the  rest  of 
us.  We  sat  side  by  side  at  Mr.  Tappan's 
school,  and  the  very  first  association  I  have 
with  her  is  hearing  her  recite  Hood's  "Song 
of  the  Shirt."  Now  that  I  recall  the  poem 
(which  so  impressed  me  then),  I  feel  that 
it  may  have  been  one  of  the  memorable 

*  The  late  Mrs.  William  Henry  Osborn. 


76  RECOLLECTIONS 

moments  of  her  life,  leading  her  heart  in 
sympathy  towards  human  sorrow  which,  dur- 
ing her  long  life,  it  was  her  chief  joy  to  alle- 
viate. The  child  of  wealthy  parents  and  the 
wife  of  a  man  of  importance  and  large  for- 
tune, Virginia  Osborn  cared  for  money  only 
as  a  means  of  doing  good,  never  spending  it 
on  herself,  but  recognizing  not  only  the  wants 
of  the  poor  but  the  tastes  of  the  rich,  and 
taking  pleasure  in  satisfying  both.  We  were 
intimate  and  devoted  friends  until  her  death, 
five  years  ago,  and  I  have  often  thought  that 
there  must  be  more  good  in  me  than  I  sus- 
pect because  Virginia  Osborn  loved  me.  Her 
children  and  grandchildren  are  among  my 
nearest  and  dearest  to-day.  Her  eldest  son  is 
one  of  the  world's  great  scientists,  the  Presi- 
dent of  the  Museum  of  Natural  History  in 
New  York  City,  and  one  of  New  York's  most 
influential  citizens;  her  younger  son  is  a 
lawyer  of  distinction,  a  public-spirited  citizen 
and  devoted  to  philanthropic  work. 


VI 

THE  FOUNDING  OF  THE  BELLEVUE 
TRAINING  SCHOOL  FOR  NURSES 

May  1,  1873 

IT  was  in  1872  that  my  friend,  Mrs.  Osborn, 
invited  me  to  accompany  her  to  a  meet- 
ing to  be  held  at  the  house  of  Miss  Louisa  Lee 
Schuyler.  She  did  not  tell  me  its  object, 
merely  saying  that  she  thought  it  might  be 
interesting.  I  was  at  that  time  in  deep 
mourning  for  my  sister,  Mrs.  Morton,  very 
sad,  and  not  yet  accustomed  to  the  change 
which  the  return  to  my  own  country  had 
made  after  so  many  years  of  absence.  I 
think  Mrs.  Osborn  suspected  this,  and  wished 
to  draw  me  into  some  occupation  which  would 
interest  me.  If  that  was  her  object  she  suc- 
ceeded, for  my  attendance  at  that  meeting  in 
New  York,  on  the  26th  of  January,  1872,  was 
an  era  in  my  life.  It  opened  before  me  new 
and  absorbing  interests,  philanthropic  and  in- 

77 


78  RECOLLECTIONS 

tellectual,  and  the  friendships  which  I  formed 
at  that  time  have  continued  to  this  day. 

Before  proceeding  with  my  story,  I  must 
say  something  of  Miss  Schuyler,  to  whose 
influence  and  example  I  am  so  deeply  in- 
debted. She  is  the  direct  descendant  of 
Major-General  Philip  Schuyler  of  the  American 
Revolution,  and  also  of  Alexander  Hamilton, 
and  it  is  needless  to  say  that  she  does  credit 
to  her  inheritance.  Aside  from  her  remark- 
able intellectual  qualities,  she  has  a  heart  of 
gold,  a  genius  for  friendship,  a  fidelity  towards 
those  she  loves,  and  a  tenderness  and  consid- 
eration for  suffering  and  sorrow  which  never 
fail,  and  which  inspire  such  confidence  and 
devotion  in  others  that,  in  the  great  works 
she  has  planned  and  carried  out,  she  has 
always  had  the  most  loyal  and  faithful  as- 
sistance. Her  gentleness  and  good-breeding 
disarm  opposition,  while  her  patient  persist- 
ence always  enables  her  to  carry  her  point. 

Her  sister,  Georgina,  is  a  charming  com- 
plement to  her;  gentle,  refined,  intellectual, 
musical.  I  have  no  greater  pleasure,  when  I 
am  in  New  York,  than  to  sit  with  those  two 
sisters,  so  harmonious  in  their  old-time  sur- 
roundings. And,  in  this  connection,  I  must 
say  one  word  about  their  father,  who  honored 


BELLEVUE  TRAINING  SCHOOL  79 

me  with  his  friendship.  It  seems  to  me,  he 
combined  more  wit  and  wisdom  than  any 
man  I  ever  knew.  Bonnat,  who  painted  his 
portrait,  said  to  me,  "He  must  have  French 
blood,  otherwise  where  has  he  got  that  subtle 
wit  and  quick  repartee?  I  have  painted 
many  of  your  countrymen,  but  never  found 
such  qualities  before."  Bonnat  had  probably 
not  before  met  an  American  who  combined 
these  qualities  with  ease  and  fluency  in 
speaking  French.  Mr.  Schuyler's  ancestry 
was  Dutch  and  New  England — no  French 
blood.  Bonnat  also  said  to  me  in  reference 
to  Miss  Schuyler,  whose  portrait  he  had  also 
painted,  "Tell  me  about  your  friend;  she 
must  be  a  remarkable  woman,  her  face  com- 
bines such  strength  and  tenderness." 

At  the  meeting  to  which  I  have  referred, 
Miss  Schuyler  had  assembled  a  group  of  ladies 
who  had  worked  with  her  during  the  Civil 
War.  They  responded  to  her  call,  and  she 
invited  them,  with  others,  to  join  her  in 
forming  a  Visiting  Committee  for  Bellevue 
and  other  public  hospitals  of  the  City  of  New 
York.  Later,  she  secured  legislation  which 
authorized  the  members  of  the  State  Chari- 
ties Aid  Association,  which  was  founded  by 
her,  and  of  which  this  Visiting  Committee 


80  RECOLLECTIONS 

formed  part,  to  visit  all  the  State  and  County 
institutions  of  Public  Charities  in  the  State 
of  New  York,  for  the  purpose  of  reporting 
their  conditions  and  bringing  about  reforms. 

I  entered  the  room  a  perfect  stranger;  Mrs. 
Osborn  introduced  me,  and  Miss  Schuyler  in- 
vited me  to  take  a  seat  by  her  side.  She 
stated  the  object  of  the  meeting,  and  then, 
suddenly  turning  to  me,  she  handed  me  a 
pencil  and  a  piece  of  paper,  and  asked  me  to 
"take  the  minutes."  I  had  never  attended 
a  meeting  of  any  kind  in  my  life,  and  knew 
no  more  about  "taking  minutes"  than  a 
baby!  I  protested,  but  smiling,  she  said, 
"  Take  note  of  what  you  hear  as  well  as  you 
can,  and  I  will  help  you  afterwards."  Of 
course  she  had  to  rewrite  those  minutes,  and 
thus  commenced  my  education  in  philan- 
thropy, and  inspired  by  such  a  teacher  I  soon 
became  absorbed  in  the  work. 

On  the  committee  which  was  formed  that 
day  to  visit  and  report  on  the  condition  of 
Bellevue  Hospital,  I  found,  to  my  surprise 
and  dismay,  that  I  was  appointed  Chairman 
of  the  Subcommittee  to  visit  the  Surgical 
Wards  for  Women.  I  have  never  to  this  day 
understood  why  I  was  named  chairman  of 
that  committee,  for  a  woman  more  abso- 


BELLEVUE  TRAINING  SCHOOL  81 

lately  ignorant  of  the  subject  could  not  have 
been  found  on  the  island  of  Manhattan.  I 
soon  found  that  the  other  members  of  the 
committee  were  almost  as  ignorant  as  myself. 
These  were:  Mrs.  Osborn,  Mrs.  Woodworth, 
and  Mrs.  "Baldy"  Smith,  the  wife  of  the 
well-known  General  who  bore  that  nickname. 
The  whole  committee  were  first  to  go  in  a 
body  to  the  hospital,  to  be  introduced  to  the 
authorities.  This  was  done  on  the  following 
day,  when  we  were  escorted  through  the  wards 
by  the  Commissioner,  General  Bowen,  and  by 
Mr.  Brennan,  the  stalwart  Irish  Warden,  who 
was  very  polite.  When  I  asked  him  years 
afterwards  how  he  happened  to  treat  us  so 
well  from  the  beginning,  he  replied,  "Oh,  I 
saw  you  were  all  the  real  thing,  and  would 
win  out  in  the  end." 

I  had  never  been  in  a  hospital  before.  On 
my  first  visit  the  sight  of  the  patients  and  the 
loathsome  smells  sickened  me  so  that  I  nearly 
fainted  and  had  to  leave,  but  I  persevered 
and  returned  to  my  task  the  next  day.  I 
looked  about  and  was  perplexed;  I  did  not 
know  what  specially  to  look  for.  While  I 
was  standing,  confused,  and  rather  embar- 
rassed, I  saw  a  young  doctor  looking  at  me. 
I  went  up  to  him  and  said,  "I  am  one  of 


82  RECOLLECTIONS 

the  Visiting  Committee;  will  you  help  me 
to  make  my  report?  I  know  nothing  about 
hospitals."  He  replied,  "Look  at  the  beds 
and  the  bedding,  the  clothing  of  the  patients, 
their  unclean  condition,  and  go  into  the  bath- 
room and  see  the  state  of  things  there;  after 
a  while  I  will  come  back  into  the  ward,  and 
you  follow  me  without  speaking."  I  did  as 
he  bade  me.  The  condition  of  the  patients 
and  the  beds  was  unspeakable;  the  one 
nurse  slept  in  the  bath-room,  and  the  tub 
was  filled  with  filthy  rubbish.  As  for  the 
nurse,  she  was  an  Irishwoman  of  a  low  class, 
and  to  her  was  confided  the  care  of  twenty 
patients,  her  only  assistants  being  paupers, 
so-called  "helpers,"  women  drafted  from  the 
workhouse,  many  of  whom  had  been  sent 
there  for  intemperance,  and  those  convales- 
cents who  could  leave  their  beds.  It  was 
Friday,  and  the  dinner  of  salt  fish  was  brought 
in  a  bag  to  the  ward  and  emptied  on  to  the 
table;  the  convalescents  helped  themselves, 
and  carried  to  the  others  their  portions  on  a 
tin  plate  with  a  spoon.  While  I  was  watch- 
ing this,  the  young  doctor  returned,  and  with- 
out speaking  to  him  I  followed  him  out  of  the 
ward,  down  a  steep  staircase,  across  a  yard 
filled  with  every  kind  of  rubbish,  into  a  large 


BELLEVUE  TRAINING  SCHOOL  83 

building  which  proved  to  be  the  laundry. 
Nauseous  steam  was  rising  from  great  caul- 
drons filled  with  filthy  clothing,  which  one  old 
pauper  was  stirring  with  a  stick.  I  looked 
about;  the  hideous  masses  were  piled  up  all 
around,  but  where  were  the  laundresses? 
There  were  none,  the  old  man  was  alone,  "they 
had  gone  away,"  he  said.  I  asked  him  what 
soap  he  used.  "I  haven't  had  any  for  quite 
a  while,"  he  said.  "How  long  a  while?"  said 
I.  "Oh,  I  should  say  a  matter  of  several 
weeks."  In  reply  to  my  exclamation  of 
horror,  the  doctor  explained  "that  it  took 
the  Commissioners  a  good  while  to  supply  all 
the  requisitions,  meanwhile  the  hospital  had 
to  wait.  Now  let  us  cross  to  the  kitchen." 
A  huge  negro  cook  was  ladling  out  soup  into 
great  tin  basins  which  the  workhouse  women 
were  to  take  up  to  the  wards,  and  I  learned 
that  these  same  cauldrons  were  used  for  the 
tea  and  coffee  in  the  morning.  Some  pauper 
women  were  huddled  together  in  a  corner, 
peeling  potatoes,  and  the  whole  place  reeked 
with  the  smell  of  foul  steam  and  food.  I  had 
to  escape,  it  was  too  dreadful! 

When  I  reached  the  outer  air,  my  conductor 
said,  "You  have  only  seen  the  outside;  it 
would  take  weeks  for  you  to  learn  all  the 


84  RECOLLECTIONS 

horrors  of  this  place;  but  don't  be  discouraged, 
I  will  help  you  all  I  can.  But  you  must  be 
very  careful  not  to  be  seen  with  me,  or  to 
quote  me,  it  might  cost  me  my  position  here." 
"I  will  come  again  to-morrow,"  I  replied. 

The  days  passed.  We  learned,  among 
other  things,  that  there  were  no  regular  night 
nurses.  A  man,  called  a  night-watchman, 
passed  through  the  wards,  and  if  he  found  a 
patient  very  ill  or  dying  he  called  a  young 
doctor.  Occasionally  patients  were  found  dead 
in  the  morning,  who  had  been  overlooked. 
Rats  scampered  over  the  floors  at  night.  In 
fact,  it  seemed  hopeless  to  attempt  to  cleanse 
that  Augean  stable. 

One  day,  on  my  way  home,  I  stopped  at  a 
bookseller's  and  ordered  Miss  Nightingale's 
works  and  some  treatises  on  hospital  manage- 
ment. These  I  studied,  and  with  the  members 
of  my  committee  visited  the  hospital  con- 
stantly. We  had  learned  a  great  deal  in  that 
first  month.  Miss  Nightingale's  papers  had 
taught  us  what  was  required  and  what  ought 
not  to  exist  in  a  hospital.  But  oh!  how  low 
our  standards  were,  how  much  we  had  to  learn 
and  act  up  to;  certainly  in  Bellevue,  the  only 
hospital  I  had  ever  seen,  and  which,  I  was 
told,  was  the  largest  pauper  hospital  in  the 


BELLEVUE  TRAINING  SCHOOL  85 

city,  with  its  thirty-two  wards  and  over  800 
patients.  Were  all  hospitals  like  this,  I 
wondered !  * 

In  this  country,  at  that  time,  the  applica- 
tion of  Lister's  use  of  antiseptics  had  not  been 
practically  carried  out,  and  so  little  was  known 
about  surgical  cleanliness  that  patients  died 
from  blood  poisoning  following  the  simplest 
operations,  such  as  amputations  of  fingers  and 
toes.  It  was  terrible  to  see  young,  strong 
men  coming  into  those  Bellevue  wards  for 
some  small  operation,  and  to  find  them  soon 
after  dying  from  what  I  was  told  was  "pyemia," 
a  word  new  to  me  then,  but  with  which  I  be- 
came sadly  familiar. 

It  will  hardly  be  believed  that  there  was  not 
an  antiseptic  of  any  kind  in  use  in  the  hospital 
except  carbolic  acid.  The  house  staff  dressed 
the  wounds,  going  from  one  patient  to  another, 
often  carrying  infection  in  spite  of  precautions 
used.  Sponges  for  washing  the  wounds  were 

*  Had  Mrs.  Hobson  visited  the  New  York  Hospital,  Saint  Luke, 
Mt.  Sinai,  and  other  hospitals  of  the  kind  in  New  York  City, 
governed  by  enlightened  Boards  of  Managers  and  supported 
by  endowments  and  voluntary  contributions,  she  would  have 
found  entirely  different  standards  of  control  and  management. 
The  medical  staff  of  Bellevue  was  of  the  highest;  nothing  else. 
Now,  the  new  Bellevue  Hospital,  with  its  present  management 
and  Training  School  for  Nurses,  ranks  with  the  best  in  the  city. 
— Editor, 


86  RECOLLECTIONS 

not  cotton,  but  bits  of  real  sponge,  and  were 
used  on  one  patient  after  another  without  any 
disinfection.  I  could  fill  pages  with  anecdotes 
of  suffering  and  death  caused  by  the  careless- 
ness and  ignorance  of  doctors,  nurses  and 
public  officials,  but,  thank  God!  these  are 
things  of  the  past.  The  world  has  certainly 
improved  in  humanity,  intelligent  philan- 
thropy and  scientific  knowledge  during  the 
last  forty  years. 

I  came  across,  the  other  day,  Lady  Priestly's 
account  of  the  condition  of  Kings  College 
Hospital,  London,  in  1867,  five  years  before  the 
time  of  which  I  am  writing,  and  it  corresponds 
so  exactly  with  the  conditions  in  New  York 
that  I  will  quote  it  in  part,  as  it  shows  that 
what  we  found  at  Bellevue  was  due  to  ignorance, 
an  ignorance  at  that  time  almost  universal. 
Lady  Priestly  says:  " Puerperal  fever  was  at 
that  time  constantly  epidemic  in  Kings  Col- 
lege Hospital;  the  lift  started  in  the  basement, 
passed  the  post-mortem  room,  then  the 
surgical  wards,  and  then  to  the  maternity. 
The  women  on  the  top  floor  nearest  the  lift 
were  invariably  the  first  attacked  with  puer- 
peral fever.  A  Royal  Commission  decided 
that  the  separation  of  erysipelas  and  pyemia 
was  quite  unnecessary.  They  advocated  mix- 


BELLEVUE  TRAINING  SCHOOL  87 

ing  the  medical  and  surgical  cases  in  the  same 
wards,  and  regretted  the  formation  of  operat- 
ing wards,  as  it  was  simply  concentrating 
the  mischief  arising  from  acute  suppurating 
wounds.  While  the  Commission  admitted 
that  nurses  ran  certain  risks  from  infection 
and  not  infrequently  fell  victims,  still  they 
believed  the  same  thing  would  happen  if  the 
nursing  were  performed  in  the  open  air,  or 
on  the  summit  of  a  mountain."  This  amaz- 
ing opinion  was  given  by  one  of  the  most 
learned  bodies  of  medical  men  in  England, 
just  five  years  before  this  committee  of  the 
State  Charities  Aid  Association,  composed  of 
a  group  of  women,  earnest,  intelligent,  but 
for  the  most  part  ignorant  of  the  task  before 
them,  commenced  the  investigations  which 
resulted  in  important  reforms  in  hospital 
management,  and  the  introduction  of  schools 
for  the  training  of  nurses  in  the  United  States. 
And  here  I  must  return  to  that  first  meet- 
ing, in  January,  when  our  Visiting  Committee 
was  formed.  I  did  not  then  know  that,  a  few 
weeks  before  that  meeting  at  Miss  Schuyler's 
house,  she  had  been  over  Bellevue  Hospital 
with  Mrs.  David  Lane  and  Commissioner 
Bowen,  and  had  come  away  with  the  strong 
conviction  that  only  through  radical  improve- 


88  RECOLLECTIONS 

ments  in  the  nursing  service  could  that  hospi- 
tal be  redeemed;  and  that  only  through  the 
establishment  of  a  Training  School  for  Nurses 
could  the  needed  high  standard  of  nursing  be 
attained,  and  the  patients  be  properly  cared 
for.  It  was  with  this  in  view  that  the  mem- 
bership of  that  committee  had  been  selected. 
A  stronger  or  more  influential  committee 
for  the  purpose  could  scarcely  have  been 
named  in  the  City  of  New  York.  Not  then, 
but  later,  did  I  realize  what  it  meant  to  have 
seventy-eight  earnest,  active  men  and  women, 
representing  the  very  best  class  of  our  citizens, 
of  enlightened  views,  wise  benevolence,  ex- 
perience, wealth  and  social  position,  all  bend- 
ing their  energies  to  the  reformation  of  that 
hospital,  a  hospital,  be  it  remembered,  domi- 
nated by  political  influences,  and  only  to  be 
regenerated  through  the  force  and  backing 
of  a  powerful  public  opinion.  This,  then,  was 
the  explanation  why  so  large  a  committee 
had  been  appointed  to  visit  a  single  hospital, 
and  why  upon  it  had  been  placed  those  ex- 
perienced workers  in  the  hospital  service  of 
the  U.  S.  Sanitary  Commission  during  the 
Civil  War.* 

*  Among  the  visitors,  I  recall  Mrs.  Lydig  M.  Hoyt,  who,  from 
the  day  the  Committee  was  formed  to  the  time  of  her  death,  in 


BELLEVUE  TRAINING  SCHOOL  89 

At  the  time  of  which  I  write,  there  were 
no  Training  Schools  for  Nurses  in  this  country, 
the  " trained  nurse"  was  unknown.  To  have 
spoken  of  what  was  projected  when  we  first 
visited  the  hospital  would  have  been  most 
unwise,  would  most  certainly  have  antago- 
nized the  authorities,  who  had,  some  of  them, 
never  even  heard  of  a  Training  School  for 
Nurses.  "What  is  it?"  one  of  them  asked 
later.  "What  kind  of  a  thing  is  a  Training 
School  for  Nurses?"  As  for  the  visitors,  Miss 
Schuyler's  plan  was  that  we  were  to  visit 
the  hospital,  to  see  for  ourselves,  report  on 
what  we  saw — the  rest  would  follow.  How 
little  I  foresaw  when  the  visitors,  of  whom  I 
was  one,  were  asked  to  report,  first  upon  clean- 
liness, next  upon  diet,  and  finally  upon  "the 
character  of  the  nursing  service,"  what  mo- 
mentous changes  were  to  follow  those  investi- 
gations. 

1897,  was  a  constant  and  most  efficient  visitor  to  Bellevue  and  the 
Island  hospitals;  Miss  Wisner,  for  nearly  forty  years  a  devoted 
and  able  visitor;  Miss  Rosalie  Butler,  Secretary  of  the  Committee 
from  its  organization  until  her  death  in  1892;  Mrs.  John  A. 
Swett  and  Mrs.  Hartman  Kuhn,  afterwards  managers  of  the 
Training  School;  Mrs.  Alfred  Pell,  who,  from  taking  reading  matter 
to  her  Bellevue  ward,  became  the  founder  of  the  "  Hospital  Book 
and  Newspaper  Society";  Mrs.  A.  G.  Norwood,  Mrs.  William 
E.  Dodge,  Mrs.  Edward  Curtis,  Mr.  Samuel  B.  Lawrence  and 
many  others. 


90  RECOLLECTIONS 

The  time  had  come  when  my  committee 
was  to  make  its  first  monthly  report  to  the 
full  committee,  of  which  Mrs.  David  Lane 
was  chairman.  I  wrote  it  as  well  as  I  could. 
Then  I  met  Dr.  Gill  Wylie  (for  that  was  the 
name  of  my  friend)  at  the  office  of  Dr.  James 
Wood,  and  they  went  over  and  revised  it. 
After  that  I  called  my  committee  together 
and  they  read  and  approved  it.  Then  we 
were  ready,  and  we  went  to  the  meeting. 

How  well  I  remember  that  day!  It  so 
happened  that  the  reports  of  the  other  four 
Standing  Committees  were  read  first,  and 
when  I  listened  to  the  accounts  of  the  good 
work  which  had  been  done  among  the  sick, 
the  comforts  that  had  been  dispensed,  the 
jellies  and  dainties  distributed  to  the  sick  and 
dying,  my  heart  sank  within  me.  I  had  done 
none  of  these  things;  I  had  nothing  but  hor- 
rors to  relate;  and  when  the  moment  came  to 
read  my  report  my  voice  trembled  and  I  could 
hardly  stand.  But,  strengthened  by  the  whis- 
pered encouragement  of  my  two  friends  who 
sat  beside  me,  I  took  courage,  and  as  I  pro- 
ceeded I  was  conscious  of  a  sympathetic 
atmosphere,  and  when  I  sat  down  there  was 
a  buzz  which  was  almost  applause.  Mrs. 
Lane  rose:  " Ladies,  you  have  heard  this 


BELLEVUE  TRAINING  SCHOOL  91 

most  interesting  and  important  report;  is  it 
your  pleasure  that  it  be  accepted? "  "I  move 
it  be  accepted  as  read,  and  sent  to  the  Com- 
missioners of  Charities  and  Correction,  and 
that  a  special  committee  be  appointed  to 
confer  with  them  on  the  condition  of  the  hos- 
pital," said  one  of  the  ladies.  The  motion 
was  carried  unanimously;  and  from  that  day 
commenced  the  fight  with  public  authorities 
and  doctors  for  hospital  reform  in  the  City  of 
New  York. 

Strange  to  say,  doctors  were  our  chief  an- 
tagonists, the  doctors  of  the  Bellevue  Hos- 
pital Medical  Board.  Not  all  of  them,  by 
any  means,  but  enough  to  hamper  and  hinder 
and  add  greatly  to  our  difficulties.  The 
"conservative  doctors "  were  especially  try- 
ing. "We  were  ignorant  women  interfering 
with  what  was  none  of  our  business."  And 
when  we  tried  to  improve  the  nursing  service, 
"they  preferred  nurses  who  would  do  as  they 
were  told";  the  intelligent,  educated  women 
we  proposed  to  introduce  "would  not  be  amen- 
able to  discipline,"  and  they  were  "utterly 
opposed  to  our  interference."  I  will  not  here 
mention  the  names  of  our  opponents ;  most  of 
them  have  gone  to  their  account,  and  many 
realized  their  mistake  and  acknowledged  it 


92  RECOLLECTIONS 

before  they  went;  but  our  friends  should 
never  be  forgotten,  and  their  names  should  be 
recorded  in  letters  of  gold  over  the  doors  of 
the  new  Bellevue  Hospital:  Dr.  James  R. 
Wood,  Dr.  Stephen  Smith,  Dr.  Austin  Flint, 
Dr.  Thomas  M.  Markoe,  Dr.  W.  Gill  Wylie. 
These  men  helped  us,  defended  us,  fought  the 
battle  of  reform  with  us  for  many  years. 

I  hasten  also  to  acknowledge  our  indebted- 
ness to  the  House  staff  of  Bellevue,  those  young 
physicians  and  surgeons  who,  at  personal  risk 
to  themselves,  gave  us  full  support.  Indeed, 
one  of  them,  Dr.  Ernest  W.  Gushing,  of  Boston, 
was  dismissed  from  the  hospital  on  this  ac- 
count; while  Dr.  Kinnicutt,  in  whose  room  in 
the  hospital  the  meeting  of  protest  was  held, 
told  me  lately  that  he  also  would  have  been 
dismissed  were  it  not  that  he  was  obliged  to 
leave  the  hospital  at  that  time  owing  to  illness. 

Meanwhile,  through  all  these  years,  and 
while  he  was  in  office,  General  Bowen,  Presi- 
dent of  the  Board,  and  the  only  Commissioner 
on  the  Board  of  Charities  who  was  with  us, 
stood  our  friend,  and  told  us  to  "go  ahead. " 

We  had  now  visited  the  hospital  for  three 
months,  and  we  knew  what  we  wanted.  What 
we  wanted  was  a  Training  School  for  Nurses 
at  Bellevue  Hospital,  formed  on  the  lines  of 


93 

Miss  Nightingale's  Training  School  at  St. 
Thomas'  Hospital,  London.  The  entire  Visit- 
ing Committee  wanted  it;  there  was  not  a 
dissenting  voice.  This  was  in  April,  1872. 

First  of  all,  it  was  necessary  to  get  the  con- 
sent of  the  Commissioners  of  Charities,  and 
Mrs.  Lane  and  Miss  Schuyler  were  deputed 
to  confer  with  Commissioner  Bowen  and  lay 
the  project  before  him,  before  making  formal 
application  to  the  Board.  General  Bowen 
received  the  proposition  favorably,  and  prom- 
ised to  advocate  it  with  his  colleagues  and 
with  the  Medical  Board.  But  he  frankly  said 
that  he  could  not  undertake  to  get  an  appro- 
priation for  the  School.  He  was  assured  that 
if  we  were  allowed  to  have  charge  of  the  nurs- 
ing of  three  or  five  wards,  and  they  would  pay 
over  to  us  what  it  cost  them,  we  would  meet 
the  additional  expense ;  and  this  was  agreed  to. 

Then  followed  a  period  of  suspense.  No 
notice  was  taken  of  our  application,  and 
the  summer  was  passing.  But  although  we 
chafed  under  the  delay,  it  was  not  time  wasted. 
I  had  been  appointed  Chairman  of  the  Hos- 
pital Committee  of  the  State  Charities  Aid 
Association,  to  which  was  assigned  the  duty 
of  preparing  a  plan  for  the  organization  of  the 
School.  Of  course  the  first  thing  to  do  was  to 


94  RECOLLECTIONS 

learn  exactly  how  the  work  of  such  a  training 
school  should  be  conducted.  Dr.  Wylie,  a 
member  of  the  Hospital  Committee,  offered 
to  go  to  England,  at  his  own  expense,  and  get 
the  practical  information  we  needed,  while 
others  studied  at  home.  Dr.  Wylie  spent  three 
weeks  in  St.  Thomas'  Hospital,  with  every 
facility  placed  at  his  disposal.  He  put  him- 
self in  communication  with  Miss  Nightingale, 
who  wrote  him  a  long  letter  stating  the 
fundamental  principles  of  the  management  of 
a  training  school,  and  wishing  us  "  God  speed ! " 
in  our  work.  This  letter  we  have  always 
regarded  as  the  Constitution  of  our  School. 

In  September,  negotiations  with  the  Medical 
Board  were  reopened  by  the  Hospital  Commit- 
tee of  the  Association,  which  submitted  its 
plan  for  the  School.  The  plan  received  the 
approval  of  the  Medical  Board,  and,  through 
General  Bowen,  the  reluctant  consent  of  the 
Commissioners.  We  were  free  to  act. 

As  soon  as  the  consent  of  the  Commis- 
sioners was  obtained,  in  September,  1872,  I 
prepared  a  pamphlet  in  which  Miss  Nightin- 
gale's letter  was  inserted,  extracts  from  Dr. 
Wylie's  report  given,  the  plan  of  our  School 
described,  and  an  appeal  made  to  the  public  for 
funds  to  establish  the  School.  (S.C.A.A.  Pub. 


BELLEVUE  TRAINING  SCHOOL  95 

No.  1,  1872.)  Within  six  weeks  over  $23,000 
had  been  subscribed  and  we  felt  encouraged.* 
It  is  a  pleasure  to  be  able  to  state  here  that 
the  medical  profession  of  the  City  of  New 
York,  as  a  whole,  gave  us  generous  and  hearty 
support.  I  hold  in  my  hand  a  yellow,  time- 
worn  leaflet,  printed  in  January,  1873,  thirty- 
eight  years  ago,  signed  by  the  eminent  physi- 
cians and  surgeons  whose  names  are  appended, 
and  which  reads  as  follows:  " Having  long  felt 
the  great  necessity  for  trained,  intelligent 

*The  Special  Committee  which  drafted  the  plan  for  the  organi- 
zation of  the  first  Training  School  for  Nurses  in  this  country  was 
appointed,  in  1872,  by  the  State  Charities  Aid  Association,  as 
follows: 

Mrs.  William  H.  Osborn,  Chairman 

Mrs.  Robert  Woodworth,  Secretary 

Mr.  Henry  G.  Stebbins,  Treasurer 

Mrs.  William  Preston  Griffin 

Mrs.  d'Or6mieulx 

Misa  Abby  Howland  Woolsey 

Mrs.  Joseph  Hobson 

Miss  Ellen  Collins 

Miss  Julia  Gould 

Dr.  W.  GUI  Wylie 

Mr.  Chandler  Robbins. 

The  same  officers,  and  the  names  of  Mrs.  Griffin,  Mrs.  Hobson 
and  Miss  Woolsey,  appear  again  on  the  Committee  of  the  Bellevue 
Visiting  Committee  which  organized  and  managed  the  School 
during  the  first  nine  months  after  it  was  opened,  May  1,  1873, 
and  on  its  first  Board  of  Managers  after  the  incorporation  of 
the  School,  in  February,  1874.  The  connection  with  the  State 
Charities  Aid  Association  was  then  severed,  but  the  School  con- 
tinues to  report  annually  to  the  Association. — Editor. 


96  RECOLLECTIONS 

nurses,  we  hail  with  pleasure  the  project  of 
establishing  a  Training  School  for  Nurses 
in  this  country.  The  plans  prepared  meet 
with  our  hearty  approval,  and  we  trust  the 
public  will  contribute  promptly  and  liberally 
to  a  cause  which  will  benefit  all  classes  in  the 
community."  * 

A  year  later  the  Bellevue  Medical  Board 
adopted  resolutions  much  to  the  same  effect. 

We  had  promised  to  open  our  School  on  the 
first  day  of  May,  but  the  first  of  February 
arrived  and,  in  spite  of  our  efforts,  we  had 
obtained  no  trained  superintendent  (which 
Miss  Nightingale  had  said  was  indispensable) 

*This  was  signed  by: 

Chas.  M.  Allin,  M.  D.  John  T.  Metcalfe,  M.  D. 

C.  R.  Agnew,  M.  D.  T.  M.  Markoe,  M.  D. 

Gordon  Buck,  M.  D.  E.  E.  Marcy,  M.  D. 

John  G.  Curtis,  M.  D.  F.  N.  Otis,  M.  D. 

A.  Clark,  M.  D.  W.  M.  Polk,  M.  D. 

John  J.  Crane,  M.  D.  Geo.  A.  Peters,  M.  D. 

A.  Du  Bois,  M.  D.  Willard  Parker,  M.  D. 

Edward  Delafield,  M.  D.  E.  R.  Peaslee,  M.  D. 

Francis  Delafield,  M.  D.  H.  B.  Sands,  M.  D. 

W.  H.  Draper,  M.  D.  E.  C.  Seguin,  M.  D. 

Wm.  Detmold,  M.  D.  John  O.  Stone,  M.  D. 

Matt.  B.  Du  Bois,  M.  D.  T.  Gaillard  Thomas,  M.  D. 

Thos.  Addis  Emmet,  M.  D.  William  H.  Van  Buren,  M.  D. 

Austin  Flint,  M.  D.  R.  F.  Weir,  M.  D. 

John  F.  Gray,  M.  D.  Geo.  G.  Wheelock,  M.  D. 

Wm.  W.  Jones,  M.  D.  L.  de  Forest  Woodruff,  M.  D. 

Fordyce  Barker,  M.  D.  J.  R.  Wood,  M.  D. 

New  York,  January,  1873. 


BELLEVUE  TRAINING  SCHOOL  97 

and  no  pupils.  We  could  find  no  woman  in  the 
country  with  the  qualifications  Miss  Night- 
ingale required;  the  only  nurses  to  be  had 
were  the  ordinary  monthly  nurses;  and  as  for 
pupils,  the  applicants  seemed  very  unsatis- 
factory. We  issued  a  circular  letter  through 
the  country  districts  inviting  applications; 
finally  experience  taught  us  that  when  the 
applicant  called  the  school  a  "vineyard"  to 
decline  to  receive  her. 

We  had  hired  a  house  near  the  hospital  as 
a  nurses'  home,  for  we  determined  that  our 
nurses  should  have  comfortable  quarters  when 
off  duty,  and  good  food;  and  we  finally  suc- 
ceeded in  securing  a  certain  number  of 
pupils,  and  several  respectable  middle-aged 
women  for  head  nurses  who  had  had  some 
hospital  experience.  But  in  vain  had  we 
searched  for  an  experienced  superintendent. 
How  could  we  enter  that  hospital,  with  its 
hostile  influences,  without  a  woman  of  char- 
acter and  knowledge  to  introduce  our  reforms 
and  teach  our  nurses?  Time  passed,  the  first 
of  April  came,  I  was  in  despair,  and  expressed 
my  anxiety  to  Mrs.  Osborn.  "I  don't  de- 
spair," she  said.  "I  have  so  prayed  for  the 
success  of  this  work,  and  I  have  such  faith  in 
it,  that  I  shall  make  that  superintendent's 


98  RECOLLECTIONS 

bed,  confident  that  she  will  come  to  occupy 
it." 

A  few  days  after  this  conversation,  my 
servant  announced  that  a  person  who  looked 
like  a  Sister  of  Charity  wished  to  see  me.  A 
woman,  with  a  most  rigid  conventual  garb, 
entered  the  room.  At  first  sight  she  was  very 
unprepossessing,  but  she  spoke,  and  the  beau- 
tifully trained  English  voice  dispelled  the 
unpleasant  impression.  "I  am  told  you  are 
establishing  a  Training  School  for  Nurses 
in  New  York;  I  have  had  some  experience 
in  that  work,  and  as  I  am  free  to  remain 
a  while  in  the  United  States,  I  shall  be  glad  if 
I  can  be  of  any  service  to  you."  I  held  my 
breath;  was  not  this  the  answer  to  Mrs. 
Osborn's  prayer?  My  visitor  proved  to  be 
Sister  Helen,  of  the  All  Saints'  Sisterhood 
(Protestant),  which  had  charge  of  the  nursing 
of  University  College  Hospital,  London.  She 
had  been  sent  to  Baltimore  to  establish  a 
Sisterhood  there,  and  had  a  leave  of  absence, 
which  gave  her  the  time  she  offered  to  us. 
After  a  long  conversation  I  made  up  my  mind 
that  her  experience  would  be  invaluable  to  us, 
especially  as  she  had  been  in  charge  at  one 
time  of  a  workhouse  hospital  in  the  North 
of  England,  the  conditions  of  which  corre- 


BELLEVUE  TRAINING  SCHOOL  99 

sponded  to  ours.  I  asked  her  to  meet  our 
committee  the  next  day;  meanwhile  I  tele- 
graphed to  Baltimore  for  information  to  cor- 
roborate her  statements.  The  reply  was 
satisfactory  in  regard  to  her  ability  and  expe- 
rience, but  "  she  had  a  temper."  It  struck  me 
that  in  that  hospital  "a  temper"  might  be  a 
desirable  quality  at  times;  at  all  events  the 
ability  and  experience  were  what  we  needed, 
and  the  result  proved  that  she  was  just  the 
person  we  required;  and  she  lay  in  that  bed 
which  my  friend  had  made  for  her,  three  years. 
The  severe  conventual  garb  of  black  serge, 
the  close  coiffe  and  veil,  the  crucifix  at  her 
side,  and  the  calm  commanding  manner,  im- 
posed obedience  upon  patients  who  were 
mostly  Roman  Catholics,  and  commanded 
respect  from  doctors  and  attendants.  Her 
knowledge  of  "hospital  politics,"  of  which  we 
were  absolutely  ignorant,  proved  invaluable  in 
her  intercourse  with  the  hospital  authorities. 
Sister  Helen  was  not  very  popular  with  all 
the  members  of  the  committee,  but  I  always 
liked  her;  her  masterful  ways  interested  me; 
she  seemed  like  a  Lady  Abbess  controlling  her 
novices,  and  she  controlled  us  as  well,  until 
finally  we  had  learned  to  stand  on  our  feet, 
and  then  we  parted  on  friendly  terms. 


100  RECOLLECTIONS 

As  was  promised,  we  opened  the  School  on 
the  first  day  of  May,  1873,  with  three  wards, 
and  the  reformation  and  purification  began. 
Sister  Helen's  experience  was  our  salvation, 
and  that  summer  she  fought  hard  and  kept 
the  School  alive  by  her  energy  and  tact,  and 
the  respect  her  knowledge  inspired  among  the 
House  staff.  By  autumn  the  results  began 
to  tell  in  the  care  of  the  patients  and  in  the 
improved  condition  of  the  wards.  During  the 
following  winter  we  were  asked  to  take  charge 
of  two  more  wards,  and  by  the  end  of  a  year  we 
were  able  to  discharge  our  monthly  nurses  and 
place  our  best  pupils  in  their  places.  Applica- 
tions from  pupils  commenced  to  pour  in,  and, 
in  spite  of  difficult  questions  which  constantly 
arose,  we  felt  that  success  was  before  us.* 

One  of  our  difficulties,  in  the  light  of  to-day, 
is  amusing.  Early  in  the  work  we  decided 
that  a  uniform  was  necessary,  but,  to  our 
surprise,  great  opposition  was  expressed  by 
the  pupils;  they  objected  to  a  "livery." 
Among  our  pupils  was  Miss  Euphemia  Van 
Rensselaer,  belonging  to  the  distinguished 
family  of  that  name,  who,  learning  of  our 
dilemma,  offered  to  try  to  solve  it  for  us.  She 

*  Beginning  with  six  pupils,  the  School  now  (1911)  numbers 
913  graduates. 


BELLEVUE  TRAINING  SCHOOL  101 

asked  for  two  days'  holiday,  and,  when  she 
returned  to  the  hospital,  she  was  dressed  in  a 
blue  and  white  " seersucker"  dress,  white 
apron,  collar  and  cuffs,  and  a  very  becoming 
cap.  She  was  very  handsome,  and  gave  an 
air  of  distinction  to  the  simple  costume.  With- 
in a  week  every  nurse  had  adopted  it,  and  it 
has  been  the  uniform  of  the  Bellevue  School 
ever  since.  Another  instance  is  typical  of  Miss 
Van  Rensselaer's  character  and  influence. 
When  we  took  charge  there  was  not  a  screen  in 
the  hospital,  no  privacy  whatever  for  sick  or 
dying.  Of  course  we  remedied  that,  but  we 
also  discovered  that  the  female  patients  were 
taken  to  the  amphitheatre  for  operations 
before  all  the  students,  unassisted  and  unpro- 
tected by  the  presence  of  a  nurse.  We  felt 
that  this  could  not  be  allowed  from  our  wards, 
and  I  consulted  a  friendly  surgeon,  Dr.  Cros- 
by. He  said  he  should  be  delighted  to  have  a 
nurse  attend  his  patients,  but,  he  added: 
"  medical  students  are  a  rough  lot,  and  they 
may  make  it  unpleasant  for  the  nurses." 
Again  Miss  Van  Rensselaer  stepped  into  the 
breach.  "I  will  go  with  the  patient  and  take 

Miss  B with  me ;  I  am  not  afraid."  The  day 

came  and  I  went  to  the  hospital  to  await  the 
result.  I  saw  the  patient  carried  out,  fol- 


102  RECOLLECTIONS 

lowed  by  two  nurses.  It  was  an  anxious 
moment.  To  have  had  those  nurses  insulted 
by  jeers  and  howls,  and  perhaps  forced  to  re- 
tire, would  have  been  very  serious,  and  it  was 
quite  possible.  Nearly  an  hour  passed ;  finally 
I  heard  the  students  thundering  down  the 
stairs.  I  waited  anxiously  until  I  could  see 
Dr.  Crosby,  and  rushed  to  meet  him.  His 
face  beaming  with  smiles,  he  extended  both 
hands:  " Their  presence  was  a  benediction;  I 
never  had  a  more  successful  operation,  and  the 
students  were  as  quiet  as  if  they  were  in  a 
church!"  he  exclaimed.  Miss  Van  Rensselaer 
told  me  later  that  the  theatre  was  crowded, 
and  when  they  entered  with  the  patient  there 
was  a  faint  murmur  as  if  in  surprise.  It 
ceased,  and  during  the  operation  the  order  was 
absolute.  From  that  day  to  this,  no  female 
patient  has  been  unattended.  Miss  Van 
Rensselaer  succeeded  Sister  Helen  as  Super- 
intendent; and  later  joined  a  sisterhood,  and 
is  now  known  as  Sister  Dolores,  a  noble  woman 
whose  life  has  been  consecrated  to  the  sick  and 
helpless. 

As  I  write,  anecdotes  crowd  upon  my  mind. 
We  progressed  slowly,  month  by  month,  meet- 
ing our  difficulties  as  they  arose  and  acquiring 
knowledge  by  experience. 


BELLEVUE  TRAINING  SCHOOL  103 

Owing  to  Mrs.  Lane's  illness,  we  had  been 
obliged,  much  to  our  regret,  to  accept  her 
resignation  as  President  of  the  Visiting  Com- 
mittee. I  had  become  her  successor,  and  it 
was  then,  in  February  of  1874,  that  our 
visitors  reported  great  mortality  in  the 
maternity  wards,  situated  on  the  upper  floor 
of  the  hospital.  We  had  no  nurses  there  and 
knew  nothing  about  their  management.  We 
consulted  Sister  Helen,  who  said  she  could 
spare  a  head  nurse  and  some  pupils  to  take 
charge  of  those  wards,  and  she  also  thought  it 
very  desirable  that  our  pupils  should  have 
this  additional  training.  Accordingly  we  made 
application  to  the  Medical  Board  to  allow  this 
extension  of  the  School,  and  received  an  invi- 
tation from  the  Board  to  confer  on  the  sub- 
ject. Mrs.  Griffin,  Mrs.  Osborn,  Mrs.  Wood- 
worth  and  I  were  appointed  to  attend  the 
conference.  It  is  now  thirty-seven  years 
ago,  but  the  incidents  of  that  conference  are 
burnt  into  my  memory.  We  found  a  number 

of  the  doctors  present,  among  them  Dr.  X , 

who  acted  as  their  spokesman,  and  our  friend, 
Dr.  Wood.  The  secretary  read  our  letter, 
hi  which  we  offered  to  take  charge  of  the 

obstetrical  wards,  and  then  Dr.  X in  the 

most  vehement  manner  denounced  us  as  spies 


104  RECOLLECTIONS 

proposing  to  interfere  with  the  management 
of  the  hospital,  and  declared  that,  if  we  persist- 
ed in  our  plan,  we  should  have  our  Training 
School  closed.  Dr.  Wood,  much  agitated, 
walked  up  and  down  the  room,  trying  to  speak 
for  us  and  calm  his  colleague,  but  the  others 

were  evidently  in  sympathy  with  Dr.  X 

and  plied  us  with  questions  in  regard  to  our 
plans  and  intentions  which  bewildered  us. 
There  we  were,  a  group  of  women  who  had  been 
working  heart  and  soul  for  over  two  years  for 
the  benefit  of  that  hospital,  and  here  were 
some  of  the  most  distinguished  doctors  in 
New  York  treating  us  as  if  we  were  Tammany 
politicians  trying  to  rob  them  of  their  fees. 
We  were  speechless  with  amazement.  At 
last  Mrs.  Griffin,  in  her  stately  manner,  rose 
and  said:  " Gentlemen,  we  will  not  prolong 
this  interview;  you  will  hear  from  us  in  a 
few  days."  I  never  felt  so  indignant  in  my 
life.  As  Mrs.  Osborn  and  I  walked  home,  the 
tears  rolled  down  my  cheeks,  I  felt  so  humili- 
ated by  the  insults  we  had  received.  A  special 
meeting  of  the  State  Charities  Aid  Associa- 
tion was  called  and  we  made  our  report.  Im- 
mediately Mr.  Howard  Potter,  Mr.  L.  P. 
Morton  and  General  Barlow  were  appointed 
a  committee  to  confer  with  the  Medical  Board 


BELLEVUE  TRAINING  SCHOOL  105 

without  delay.  I  was  not  present;  I  cannot 
say  what  our  friends  said  to  the  doctors,  but  I 
know  that  they  gave  them  to  understand,  in 
no  unmeasured  terms,  that  New  York  was  be- 
hind us,  and  that  they  would  not  allow  their 
wives  and  sisters  to  be  insulted;  in  fact  they 
made  their  views  so  plain  that,  before  long, 
we  received  a  communication  from  the  Medical 
Board  inviting  the  training  school  to  take 
charge  of  the  obstetrical  wards  cf  Bellevue 
Hospital. 

The  three  maternity  wards  were  turned  over 
to  us  in  May,  1874,  and  we  placed  Miss 
Richards  in  charge,  an  exceptional  woman, 
who  afterwards  went  to  Japan  and  started 
trained  nursing  in  that  country.  She  soon 
reported  terrible  mortality  in  the  lying-in 
wards  from  puerperal  fever,  there  being  two 
deaths  out  of  every  five  births.  All  the  best 
nursing  we  could  give  did  not  reduce  the 
mortality,  and  we  soon  learned  that  puerperal 
fever  had  invaded  Fifth  Avenue,  at  that  time 
an  exclusively  residential  quarter.  I  went  to 
see  my  own  physician,  Dr.  Peaslee,  who  was 
not  a  member  of  the  Bellevue  Board.  He 
handed  me  a  medical  journal  and  said,  as  he 
turned  a  page:  "I  shall  be  engaged  for  a 
short  time;  meanwhile  you  can  read  this." 


106  RECOLLECTIONS 

The  first  words  my  eyes  fell  upon  were:  "It 
is  death  for  a  puerperal  woman  to  be  in  a 
surgical  hospital,  or  to  be  attended  by  surgeons 
or  nurses  who  are  practising  in  surgical  wards." 
The  mystery  was  solved:  these  women  were 
in  a  surgical  hospital  and  were  attended  by 
doctors  who  were  constantly  in  surgical  wards. 
Dr.  Peaslee  returned;  I  pointed  to  the  para- 
graph. "Is  this  so;  then  this  is  what  is  killing 
those  women ! "  I  exclaimed,  trembling  with 
excitement.  "Yes,"  he  said.  The  book  in  my 
hand,  I  drove  directly  to  see  Mrs.  Lucius 
Tuckerman,  one  of  our  managers,  and  showed 
it  to  her.  "Could  you  write  an  article  for  the 
Evening  Post?"  she  asked.  "I  can  try," 
said  I.  "Then  let  us  go  to  the  hospital  at 
once!"  she  exclaimed.  On  the  steps  of  the 
hospital  stood  the  warden  and  some  of  the 
doctors.  Mrs.  Tuckerman  was  a  little  woman, 
but  she  looked  very  tall  as  she  accosted  them. 
"Gentlemen,  we  have  learned  the  cause  of  the 
mortality  in  the  lying-in  wards  of  this  hos- 
pital. We  give  you  forty-eight  hours  to  re- 
move those  women.  If  they  are  here  at  the 
end  of  that  time,  the  whole  story  will  be 
published  in  the  Evening  Post,  written  by  the 
lady  who  stands  by  my  side."  I  shall  never 
forget  Mrs.  Tuckerman's  expression  of  in- 


BELLEVUE  TRAINING  SCHOOL  107 

dignation  as  well  as  power,  as  she  delivered  her 
ultimatum.  From  the  hospital  we  drove  to 
see  General  Bowen,  President  of  the  Board  of 
Charity  Commissioners,  who  at  once  gave  the 
order  for  the  immediate  removal  of  the 
twenty-five  women  awaiting  confinement  to  a 
pavilion  of  Charity  Hospital  on  Blackwell's 
Island.  In  less  than  forty-eight  hours  this 
was  done.  All  these  women  recovered. 

Further  formal  representations  were  made 
by  the  Visiting  Committee,  with  the  result 
that,  in  June,  1874,  the  lying-in  wards  at 
Bellevue  were  closed,  all  the  women  being 
sent  to  Blackwell's  Island,  and  the  mortality 
ceased  among  them,  and  on  Fifth  Avenue. 

The  question  naturally  arises,  why  did  the 
Medical  Board,  knowing,  as  they  must  have 
known,  of  the  mortality  in  those  Bellevue 
wards,  and  the  cause,  treat  us  as  they  did, 
when  we  offered  to  nurse  the  women?  Why? 
The  explanation  gradually  dawned  upon  us. 
The  obstetrical  service  was  very  important 
to  the  Medical  School,  and  to  remove  the 
women  to  Blackwell's  Island  would  have  in- 
terfered with  the  clinics.  They  knew  that 
we  would  soon  discover  the  cause  of  the 
mortality,  and  therefore  they  objected  to 
placing  us  in  charge.  I  ought  to  add  that,  at 


108  RECOLLECTIONS 

that  time,  the  precautions  against  infection  were 
most  primitive,  and  many  of  the  doctors  did  not 
attach  much  importance  to  them,  like  the  doctors 
in  England  to  whom  Lady  Priestly  refers. 

Two  years  later,  we  found  that  the  closing 
of  the  maternity  wards  left  about  twelve 
women  a  month,  on  an  average,  who  were 
taken  in  labor  in  the  streets,  for  whom  there 
was  no  adequate  place  of  refuge.  So  there  was 
now  another  task  before  us.  Doctor,  after- 
wards Bishop,  Potter  went  before  the  Grand 
Jury  for  us,  and  stated  the  case,  and  shortly 
a  disused  engine-house  was  placed  at  our 
disposal  for  the  accommodation  of  these  un- 
fortunate women.  That  discarded  old  engine- 
house  became  a  most  successful  maternity 
hospital,  with  the  best  results  of  any  public 
hospital  at  that  time  in  this  country.* 

On  our  Board  of  Managers  were  some  very 
remarkable  women,  who  brought  their  rare 
intelligence,  ability  and  warm  hearts  to  the 
service  of  the  School,  and  our  meetings, 
as  may  be  imagined,  were  most  interesting. 
Among  the  Presidents  of  the  School  in  those 
early  days  were  Mrs.  William  Preston  Griffin, 
who  later  served  again  as  our  President  for 
many  years,  and  is  now  Honorary  President, 

*In  July,  1911,  there  was  opened,  in  this  same  building,  the  "  City  of 
New  York  Bellevue  Hospital  Training  School  for  Midwives." 


BELLEVUE  TRAINING  SCHOOL  109 

and  whose  experiences  on  the  "  Hospital 
Transports"  during  the  Civil  War  are  else- 
where recorded;  Mrs.  David  Lane,  who  or- 
ganized the  great  Metropolitan  Fair  of  the 
United  States  Sanitary  Commission;  Mrs. 
Alexander  Hamilton  and  Mrs.  William  Henry 
Osborn.  Mrs.  Robert  Woodworth  was  our 
Secretary  until  she  moved  away  from  New 
York;  and  Miss  Abby  Howland  Woolsey,  ex- 
perienced in  work  for  hospitals  during  the  Civil 
War,  of  great  organizing  ability,  and  who 
drafted  the  plan  for  the  training  school,  was 
one  of  our  most  efficient  managers. 

My  own  connection  with  the  School  ter- 
minated when  I  moved  to  Washington,  in 
1886,  and  one  of  my  keenest  regrets  upon 
leaving  New  York  was  that  I  had  to  leave 
the  School,  which  had  been  my  greatest  inter- 
est. I  always  feel  that  I  belong  to  it  wher- 
ever I  may  be. 

But  the  one  and  only  member  of  the  Board 
who  began  work  for  the  School,  in  1872,  before 
it  was  opened,  and  continued  actively  engaged 
in  it  without  a  break  until  her  death,  in  1902, 
was  Mrs.  William  H.  Osborn.  At  the  very- 
beginning  of  the  School,  and  for  many  years 
before  she  died,  Mrs.  Osborn  was  its  President. 
I  wish  I  could  give  an  idea  of  what  she  was  to 


110  RECOLLECTIONS 

the  School.  Her  devotion  to  it  was  absolute; 
she  was  constantly  devising  measures  for  its 
welfare  which  her  ability  made  practical; 
her  gentle,  unassuming  manner  concealed  a 
strength  of  character  which  her  associates 
could  depend  upon  to  help  them  through  any 
crisis;  and  yet  hers  was  a  rule  of  love.  No 
one  could  work  with  Mrs.  Osborn  without 
being  affected  by  her  deeply  religious  nature, 
without  respecting  and  loving  her.  Her  gen- 
erosity knew  no  bounds.  She  gave  a  large, 
comfortable  house  for  the  Nurses'  home;  she 
gave  the  model  Sturges  surgical  pavilion;  she 
furnished  the  old  engine-house,  changing  it 
into  a  well-equipped  maternity  hospital;  she 
was  always  doing  little  kindnesses,  and  great 
kindnesses,  too,  for  superintendents,  nurses 
and  patients,  of  which  only  they  themselves 
could  ever  know.  But  it  was  not  the  gift, 
it  was  the  way  she  gave,  which  made  what  she 
did,  simply  and  quietly,  so  very  beautiful — 
for  she  gave  herself.  When  Mrs.  Osborn 
died,  the  whole  School  mourned  her,  the  whole 
hospital  mourned  her,  for  had  she  not  been  their 
most  steadfast  friend  for  all  those  thirty  years? 
In  an  address  delivered  by  the  Hon.  Joseph 
H.  Choate  on  Florence  Nightingale,  in  New 
York,  May,  1910,  the  fiftieth  anniversary  of 


BELLEVUE  TRAINING  SCHOOL  111 

the  founding  by  her  of  the  first  training  school 
for  nurses  in  England,*  Mr.  Choate  speaks 
of  the  founding  of  the  first  training  school  for 
nurses  in  this  country,  thirteen  years  later. 
After  naming  several  ladies  who  were  promi- 
nent among  the  founders  of  the  school,  he 
concludes  with  the  following  eloquent  tribute 
to  Mrs.  Osborn:  "That  woman  of  sainted 
memory,  Mrs.  William  H.  Osborn,  who  led 
their  activities  in  the  creation  of  that  great 
school,  and  who  gave  so  much  of  her  heart,  her 
soul,  her  life  and  her  treasure,  to  the  building 
up  of  that  school." 

As  time  went  on,  important  benefactions 
of  various  kinds  were  given  to  the  hospital 
by  friends  of  the  School.  The  old  hospital 
was  patched  up,  but  we  never  ceased  our 
entreaties  for  a  new  one.  How  we  strove 
for  it  in  the  early  seventies  will  be  found  in  an 
interesting  report  of  a  special  committee  of 
the  State  Charities  Aid  Association,  of  which 
Bishop  Potter  was  chairman.**  It  has  taken 
nearly  forty  years  to  get  that  new  hospital. 
And  I  doubt  if  anything  of  value  could  have 
been  accomplished  had  it  not  been  for  a  new 

*  The  Nightingale  School  was  opened  at  St.  Thomas'  Hospital, 
London,  June  15,  1860. 

**  Report  of  Special  Committee  on  the  erection  of  a  new  Belle- 
vue  Hospital,  S.  C.  A.  A.  Pub.  No.  4,  February,  1874. 


112  RECOLLECTIONS 

era  in  the  history  of  Bellevue,  through  the 
creation,  in  1902,  vof  the  City  Department  of 
Bellevue  and  Allied  Hospitals,  with  an  unpaid 
Board  of  Trustees  appointed  by  the  Mayor. 

Since  then  many  changes  and  improvements 
have  been  made,  notably  the  beginning  of  the 
"New  Belle vue,"  on  the  site  of  the  old 
hospital,  now  in  course  of  construction  and 
partly  occupied;  and  the  erection  by  the  City 
of  a  commodious,  comfortable  Nurses'  Resi- 
dence. The  old  Nurses'  Home,  at  426  East 
26th  Street,  has  been  remodelled  and  joined 
to  a  beautiful  new  building  known  as  "Osborn 
Hall,"  equipped  as  an  Alumnse  Club  House  for 
Bellevue  graduates,  and  given  by  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  William  Church  Osborn  as  a  memorial 
to  Mrs.  William  H.  Osborn. 

As  I  have  already  said,  the  Bellevue  Train- 
ing School  for  Nurses,  opened  May  1,  1873, 
was  the  first  school  of  the  kind  in  this  country. 
The  New  Haven  and  Boston  schools  followed 
closely,  being  also  opened  in  1 873.  Twenty-five 
years  later,  in  1898,  thirty  schools  had  been 
established;  and  to-day  (1911)  there  are  1,100 
Training  Schools  for  nurses  in  the  United 
States. 

The  early  prejudices,  the  opposition  we  had 
to  contend  with,  have  long  since  vanished. 


BELLEVUE  TRAINING  SCHOOL  113 

I  still  remember  the  expression  of  amused 
triumph  which  passed  over  the  faces  of  the 
managers  at  a  Board  meeting,  a  few  years 
after  the  School  had  gradually  been  extending 
itself  over  the  hospital,  when  a  resolution  was 
received  from  the  Board  of  Charity  Commis- 
sioners asking  us  "to  take  over  all  the  wards 
of  the  hospital";  while  it  was  also  reported 
that  "Dr.  C was  very  angry  with  us  be- 
cause we  had  removed  our  nurses  from  his 
ward."  Now,  a  surgeon  will  not  undertake 
an  operation  of  any  importance  without  the 
attendance  of  a  trained  nurse,  and  in  all 
serious  cases  of  illness  she  is  always  sent  for 
by  the  doctor,  while  trained  nursing  by  grad- 
uates of  Hospital  Training  Schools  has  risen 
to  the  rank  of  a  profession. 

The  founders  of  the  School  had  three  objects 
in  view:  1,  to  provide  trained  nursing  for 
public  hospitals;  2,  for  private  families;  3, 
for  the  sick  poor;  and  it  is  cause  for  satis- 
faction and  gratitude  that  all  three  objects 
have  been  attained,  while  maintaining  the 
high  standard  of  excellence  which  the  School 
has  always  stood  for. 

Our  first  graduates  became,  many  of  them, 
the  superintendents  and  matrons  of  a  number 
of  training  schools  in  this  country.  To-day 


114  RECOLLECTIONS 

they  are  to  be  found  in  all  our  States,  and  in 
Japan,  Italy  and  other  countries;  while,  in 
this  city,  Bellevue  still  claims  and  holds  them 
as  their  Alma  Mater,  and  they  have  brought, 
and  still  bring,  service  and  comfort  and 
blessing  into  the  homes  of  both  rich  and  poor. 
In  writing  these  personal  reminiscences,  I 
have  not  tried  nor  wished  to  give  a  history 
of  the  School  or  statistical  information  con- 
cerning it.  This  can  be  found,  by  those  who 
wish  to  know  more,  in  books,  reports  and 
printed  papers  without  number,  to  which  they 
can  turn.*  But  nowhere  else  will  be  found 
an  account  of  the  difficulties  encountered, 
the  opposition  met  and  overcome,  the  striv- 
ings and  struggles,  the  hopes  and  fears,  as  I 
have  tried  to  depict  them,  of  that  earnest  little 
band  of  women,  the  first  managers  of  the 
Bellevue  Training  School  for  Nurses,  with 
whom  I  was  associated  and  with  whose  friend- 
ship I  was  and  am  honored. 

*  Among  these  "A  History  of  Nursing,"  by  M.  Adelaide  Nutting, 
R.N.,and  Lavinia  L. Dock,  R.N.,  4  vols.,  G.P.Putnam's  Sons, 
1912;  "A  Century  of  Nursing,"  by  Abby  Rowland  Woolsey, 
S.C.A.  A.  Pub.  No.  11,  1876;  annual  reports  of  the  Bellevue 
Training  School  for  Nurses;  State  Charities  Aid  Association 
reports,  etc. 


VII 

THE  CHATEAU  D'AUNAY 
JULY,  1877 

NOT  long  after  the  Civil  War,  my  brother- 
in-law,  General  Berdan,  who  had  in- 
vented a  breech-loading  rifle  and  cartridge, 
which  was  adopted  by  the  Russian  Govern- 
ment, went  to  St.  Petersburg  to  superintend 
their  manufacture,  and  established  himself 
there  with  his  family  for  about  three  years.  I 
made  them  a  short  visit  there,  but  there  are  no 
incidents  connected  with  it  worth  relating. 

In  1873  General  Berdan  went  to  Berlin,  and 
there  the  family  was  settled  for  another  three 
years.  I  have  heard  my  sister  say  that,  at 
that  time,  the  court  and  society  of  Berlin  were 
.the  most  interesting  of  the  many  capitals  she 
had  known.  The  Franco-German  War  was 
over,  and  the  Germans  were  in  the  first  flush 
of  their  victories.  The  old  Emperor  was  still 
alive,  his  gracious  dignity  shedding  its  influ- 

115 


116  RECOLLECTIONS 

ence  on  society,  while  the  Crown  Princess  and 
her  husband  gave  it  a  spirit  of  youth  and  en- 
thusiasm. Bismarck  and  Moltke  were  in 
their  prime,  strong  and  active;  energy  and 
hope  were  in  the  air;  the  boy,  who  later  was 
to  discharge  "the  pilot"  and  seize  the  reins  of 
power,  then  gave  no  special  promise  of  his 
future. 

Owing  to  General  Berdan's  distinction  as  a 
soldier  and  inventor,  all  doors  were  open  to 
him,  and  with  him  entered  his  wife  and  eld- 
est daughter;  and  even  the  little  son  and 
daughter  became  the  playmates  of  the  future 
Emperor  and  the  Princess  Victoria.  I  am 
sure  that  no  one  who  had  ever  known  my 
sister  Mary,  would  be  disposed  to  deny  her 
remarkable  social  gifts.  No  matter  where  she 
might  be  settled — in  a  New  -England  village, 
in  the  camp  near  Washington,  on  a  Long 
Island  farm,  in  Paris,  Geneva,  Constantino- 
ple, Rome — she  invariably  drew  around  her  the 
choicest  spirits.  So  did  I  find  her  in  Berlin, 
and  by  her  side  her  eldest  daughter,  Sarita. 
Only  a  month  ago  (1911)  I  met  Professor 
Sloane  of  Princeton,  who  exclaimed:  "Tell 
me  about  General  Berdan's  daughter.  I  knew 
her  in  Berlin;  she  was  a  beautiful  girl.  I 
remember  going  into  a  picture  exhibition  one 


CHATEAU  D'AUNAY  117 

day,  where  a  portrait  of  a  very  plain  princess 
had  been  represented  as  very  handsome  by  a 
great  artist,  when  Mr.  George  Bancroft  came 
up  with  your  niece.  He  looked  at  the  por- 
trait and,  turning  to  her,  exclaimed:  'If 
Lenbach  could  make  such  a  beauty  of  the 
Princess,  my  God !  what  could  he  not  make  of 
you."  Professor  Sloane  added:  "That  was 
thirty-seven  years  ago,  and  I  can  remember 
how  she  looked  as  she  smiled  on  the  old  gentle- 
man, as  if  it  were  yesterday."  Of  course 
Sarita  had  plenty  of  admirers,  and  a  young 
Frenchman  won  her;  a  fine  young  man  in 
the  diplomatic  service  and  for  many  years 
Senator  in  France.  They  were  married  in 
Berlin  in  1875. 

Two  years  later,  I  visited  them  at  his  in- 
teresting chateau,  or  as  Count  d'Aunay  called 
it,  "Mon  vieux  manoir."  I  wrote  an  account 
of  my  visit  at  the  time  and  entirely  forgot  it. 
The  other  day,  in  looking  over  some  old 
papers  hidden  away  in  a  closet,  I  came  across 
the  manuscript,  and  insert  it  here. 

CHATEAU  D'AUNAY 

It  is  recorded  in  the  history  "of  the  noble 
families  of  the  Duchy  of  Nevers"  that  "the 
Chateau  d'Aunay  is  about  six  leagues  from 


118  RECOLLECTIONS 

the  ancient  city  of  Nevers,  and  not  far  from 
the  spot  where  Saint  Perreuse  suffered  mar- 
tyrdom." The  same  authority  states  that,  in 
the  feudal  times,  the  lords  of  Aunay  were 
constantly  at  war  with  their  neighbors,  and 
especially  with  their  neighbors  the  Barons  de 
Champdion.  The  latter  were  finally  com- 
pelled to  pay  homage  annually  to  the  Lord 
of  Aunay,  and  to  offer  at  the  same  time,  as 
tribute,  one  swallow  which  had  to  be  brought 
in  person  by  the  Baron  de  Champdion,  in  a 
cart  covered  with  moss,  drawn  by  four  bulls, 
to  the  gates  of  the  chateau.  Here  the  Baron 
must  kneel,  kiss  the  lock,  and  let  the  bird  fly. 
The  same  authority  states  that  the  Comte 
d'Aunay  held  his  domain  by  the  family  Rei- 
gner  de  Garchy,  from  1276;  it  passed,  in  1656, 
by  marriage,  to  the  Marignys;  and  in  the 
same  manner,  in  1700,  to  the  Le  Pelletiers, 
Marquis  de  Rosambeau.  The  Marechal  de 
Vauban  married  a  Mademoiselle  d'Aunay,  and 
his  daughter  married  her  cousin,  the  Comte 
d'Aunay,  who  restored  the  chateau  to  its 
present  state  in  1744. 

Now  I  will  proceed  to  tell  how  I  found  it 
in  1878.  A  drive  from  Nevers,  through  a  fer- 
tile and  highly  cultivated  country,  brought 
the  party  to  the  village  of  Aunay.  The  cha- 


CHATEAU  D'AUNAY  119 

teau  is  a  gray  stone  pile,  devoid  of  ornament, 
built  around  a  court,  surrounded  by  a  moat 
spanned  by  a  drawbridge,  the  portcullis  with 
its  threatening  teeth  still  hanging  ready,  as 
in  the  days  of  the  Barons  de  Champdion,  to 
fall  before  unwelcome  visitors.  Originally  a 
fortress,  standing  on  a  hill  above  the  little 
village  at  its  base,  the  castle  has  been  en- 
larged from  time  to  time,  until  its  dimensions 
are  now  spacious  enough  to  accommodate  a 
large  family  and  fifty  guests;  while  the  ex- 
tensive range  of  out-buildings,  offices,  stables 
and  kennels  indicate  the  great  number  of  re- 
tainers and  horses  which  formed  the  retinue 
of  the  " Grand  Seigneur"  before  the  Revolu- 
tion. The  gardens  were  laid  out  in  the  formal 
style  of  the  period,  the  orange  trees  were  in  full 
bloom,  standing  in  green  boxes,  like  those  at 
Versailles  and  Fontainebleau.  The  village 
church  had  been  restored  by  the  grandfather 
of  the  present  proprietor.  The  entrance  to 
the  family  chapel  was  from  the  garden  ter- 
race. The  devout  behavior  of  the  congrega- 
tion, which  filled  the  good-sized  building, 
showed  that  there  were  but  few  "mal  pen- 
sants"  among  the  peasants  of  Aunay.  The 
congregation  was  entirely  of  the  peasant  class, 
the  older  men  in  blouses,  their  wives  in  their 


120  RECOLLECTIONS 

white  caps;  here  and  there  a  girl  in  a  smart 
hat  and  feather,  and  a  youth  in  a  black  coat, 
but  they  looked  out  of  place.  One  man  was 
pointed  out  who  paid  15,000  francs  a  year 
rent  for  his  farm  and  who  was  worth  250,000 
francs,  yet  he  and  his  wife  and  children  were 
clad  and  appeared  as  simply  as  the  rest.  After 
viewing  the  exterior  of  the  chateau,  visiting 
the  farm  and  the  village  school,  where  about 
one  hundred  children  were  assembled,  we  ex- 
pressed a  wish  to  examine  the  interior.  "I 
have  not  been  all  over  the  chateau  myself," 
said  the  young  hostess;  "suppose  we  call  the 
steward  and  make  a  regular  tour."  "Rather 
let  us  go  alone,  it  will  be  greater  fun  to  explore 
by  ourselves,"  I  cried.  "Agreed,"  said  the 
Count,  and  armed  with  a  bunch  of  huge  keys, 
the  party  set  forth. 

Leaving  the  State  rooms,  all  hung  with 
family  portraits,  to  be  inspected  at  leisure, 
we  ascended  the  wide  stone  staircase  and 
passed  through  suite  after  suite  of  bed- 
rooms hung  with  tapestries,  representing 
biblical  scenes  in  gigantic  proportions.  While 
the  bedrooms  were  lofty  and  spacious,  fur- 
nished with  the  high  canopied  beds,  large 
armchairs  and  sofas  of  the  Louis  XV  period, 
the  dressing-rooms  adjoining  were  low  and 


CHATEAU  D'AUNAY  121 

small,  and  the  visitors  were  puzzled  to  know 
what  became  of  the  intervening  spaces,  as 
the  rooms  above  were  disposed  in  the  same 
manner;  and  as  the  Count  seemed  unable  or 
unwilling  to  explain,  we  concluded  that  these 
mysterious  spaces  were  for  the  accommodation 
of  the  family  ghosts.  After  counting  thirty 
large  bedrooms  and  dressing-rooms,  and  some- 
times servants'  rooms  attached,  we  gave  up 
counting,  as  we  became  involved  in  such  a 
labyrinth  of  rooms,  closets,  galleries  and 
staircases,  that  we  lost  our  way,  until  finally 
Count  d'Aunay  exclaimed:  "Here  we  are  at 
the  door  of  the  iron  room;  come  in  and  have 
a  look  at  the  family  archives." 

From  floor  to  ceiling  were  rows  of  shelves, 
on  which  were  boxes  containing  deeds  and 
documents  of  the  family,  dating  from  the 
twelfth  century.  Opening  one  box  the  Count 
took  from  it  and  placed  in  my  hands  a  pack- 
age of  letters  from  Louis  XIV  to  Colbert, 
who  had  married  a  Mademoiselle  d'Aunay. 
Among  them  was  a  little  note  from  the 
Duchesse  de  la  Valliere  to  Louis  XIV,  making 
a  rendezvous  on  a  bridge.  How  did  this  little 
scrap  of  romance  creep  in  among  those  grave 
State  papers?  Possibly  the  King  received  the 
billet-doux  while  writing  to  his  Minister;  it 


122  RECOLLECTIONS 

fell  between  the  papers,  was  accidentally  en- 
closed, and  the  Minister  preserved  it.  How 
else  account  for  its  presence  among  the  papers 
of  Colbert,  in  an  old  chateau  which  he  had 
once  inhabited! 

On  opening  the  closets  of  another  room, 
stores  of  china  were  revealed :  treasures  of  the 
East,  Italy,  Saxony,  Sevres,  Chantilly  and 
Nevers.  Fancy  the  rapture  of  a  collector  who 
finds  before  him  shelf  after  shelf  crowded 
with  porcelain  and  faience  which  had  re- 
ceived no  additions  since  1799.  We  could 
find  no  marks  of  a  later  date  than  1789,  and 
many  of  the  pieces  were  very  rare  and  of 
great  beauty.  After  a  look  at  the  linen  room, 
which  contained  not  only  stores  of  linen  suffi- 
cient to  supply  a  large  public  institution  for 
a  term  of  years,  but  the  priests*  robes  for 
baptisms,  marriages  and  funerals,  we  repaired 
to  the  drawing-room  to  rest  and  talk  over  our 
discoveries. 

The  drawing-room  was  furnished  in  the 
time  of  Louis  XVI.  The  mirrors  were  set 
into  the  walls,  framed  by  delicately  carved 
wreaths  of  flowers,  painted  white,  the  panels 
were  white,  and  the  hangings  and  furniture 
pale  blue  satin.  (This  visit  took  place  in 
1877,  before  the  French  style  of  decoration 


CHATEAU  D'AUNAY  123 

had  been  introduced  into  the  United  States.) 
Portraits  of  men  and  women,  in  gay  court 
costumes,  looked  down  upon  us,  and  land- 
scapes by  Boucher  and  Watteau  ornamented 
the  spaces  over  the  doors.  "It  is  to  the  good 
sense  of  that  man,"  said  the  Count,  pointing 
to  the  full-length  portrait  of  a  general  officer, 
"that  I  owe  the  possession  of  this  estate.  He 
was  my  great-grandfather.  Instead  of  fol- 
lowing the  Princes  into  exile  at  the  time  of 
the  Revolution,  he  came  here  when  he  found 
it  dangerous  to  remain  in  Paris,  and  lived 
quietly  on  the  estate  during  all  those  troubled 
years.  Whenever  there  was  any  hue  and  cry 
for  him,  he  would  disappear  among  the  ten- 
antry for  a  while;  thus  the  property  escaped 
confiscation,  and  I  am  benefited  by  what  my 
mother,  who  is  a  strong  legitimist,  is  disposed 
to  call  the  treason  of  my  ancestor;  for  it  is 
still  considered,  among  the  legitimists,  that 
any  man  who  willingly  remained  in  France  at 
that  time  was  disloyal  to  the  King's  cause." 
"There  are  all  manner  of  stories  about  him," 
said  the  Countess.  "I  fear  he  was  something 
of  a  'mauvais  sujet.7  See  what  a  merry 
gleam  there  is  in  his  eye,  while  all  the  other 
men  look  so  grave  and  prim  in  their  wigs  and 
rolls  of  parchment  and  books  by  their  sides. 


124  RECOLLECTIONS 

I  often  think  those  pretty,  gay  women,  in 
their  laces  and  patches,  must  have  had  a  dull 
time  with  such  grim  companions.  I  wonder 
how  they  managed  to  amuse  themselves." 
"Don't  trouble  yourself  on  their  account,  my 
dear,"  said  her  husband;  "depend  upon  it 
they  had  no  lack  of  amusement.  I  fear  if  we 
examine  very  closely  into  their  careers  we 
might  feel  obliged,  as  their  descendants  and 
good  Catholics,  to  expend  some  of  the  income 
we  have  inherited  from  them  in  masses  for 
their  souls.  But  I  have  one  relative  whose 
soul  is  safe,  and  if  you  will  come  into  the 
library  I  will  show  you  her  legacy  to  me." 

THE    BAROLO    COLLECTION   OF   AUTOGRAPHS 

On  a  table  in  a  corner  of  the  well-stored 
library,  where  the  worldly-wise  Lieutenant 
General  had  doubtless  whiled  away  a  good 
many  hours  of  his  self-enforced  seclusion 
while  France  was  passing  through  her  bloody 
ordeal,  were  five  massive  oaken  boxes,  which 
our  host  opened,  and  laid  before  us  a  collec- 
tion of  autographs,  which  we  subsequently 
learned  was  considered  one  of  the  most  inter- 
esting in  Europe.  They  were  collected  by 
the  Marquise  de  Barolo,  ne'e  de  Colbert,  a 


CHATEAU  D'AUNAY  125 

great  lady  of  Turin,  and  great-aunt  of  the 
present  owner  of  Aunay,  to  whom  she  be- 
queathed them.  This  lady  and  her  husband, 
who  were  celebrated  for  their  charity  and 
benevolence,  offered  to  Silvio  Pellico  (the 
author  of  "I  miei  Prigioni"),  on  his  release 
from  Spielberg,  a  home  for  life  in  their  house, 
with  the  post  of  secretary  and  a  handsome 
salary.  In  the  second  volume  of  the  "Life  of 
George  Ticknor"  is  the  following  account  of 
a  visit  to  Madame  de  Barolo,  where  he  met 
Pellico: 

"Pellico  is  a  small,  commonplace-looking 
man,  about  fifty  years  old,  gentle,  modest, 
and  quiet  in  his  manners;  his  health  still 
feeble,  but  not  bad,  from  his  long  confine- 
ment; and  with  a  subdued  air,  which  shows 
that  the  spirit  within  him  has  been  much 
bruised  and  crushed,  and  probably  his  very 
talent  and  mind  reduced  in  its  tone.  .  .  . 
Among  those  who  now  sought  his  acquaint- 
ance (on  his  release  from  Spielberg,  after  the 
Prigioni  were  published),  were  the  Marquis 
and  Marquise  de  Barolo,  persons  of  large 
fortune, — two  hundred  or  three  hundred  thou- 
sand francs  per  annum, — of  an  old  family,  of 
intellectual  tastes,  and  much  devoted  to  doing 
good.  .  .  .  Madame  de  Barolo,  to  our  great 


126  RECOLLECTIONS 

surprise,  is  a  Frenchwoman,  who,  notwith- 
standing her  well-known  religious  character 
and  habitual,  active  benevolence,  has  all  a 
Frenchwoman's  grace,  vivacity  and  esprit. 
The  appearance  of  things  was  everywhere 
elegant,  tasteful,  and  intellectual.  So  was  the 
conversation.  .  .  .  About  an  hour  after  we 
arrived  dinner  was  announced,  which  was 
served  about  six  o'clock,  by  candlelight,  in  a 
beautiful  room,  ornamented  with  a  few  pieces 
of  sculpture.  The  service  was  of  silver. 
Pellico  was  gentle  and  pleasant,  but  talked 
little,  and  I  could  not  help  noticing  the  con- 
trast between  his  conversation  and  the  grave, 
strong,  manly  conversation  of  Count  Balbo, 
as  well  as  the  gay,  lively  commerage  of  Ma- 
dame de  Barolo.  The  dinner,  which  was  en- 
tirely French,  was  extremely  agreeable,  and 
when  it  was  over  we  went  to  the  salon,  had 
coffee  and  more  pleasant  talk,  looked  over 
autographs,  etc.,  till  about  nine,  when  we 
returned  to  Turin." 

I  was  fortunate  in  being  permitted  to  make 
extracts  from  a  few  of  the  Barolo  autograph 
letters  which  especially  interested  me.  These 
I  have  translated. 


CHATEAU  D'AUNAY  127 

Letter  from  Silvio  Pellico  to  Madame  la  Mar- 
quise Juliette  Colbert  de  Barolo 

MADAME: 

As  your  valuable  collection  of  autographs 
requires  certain  explanations  in  order  to  give 
a  clear  idea  of  the  subject  of  each,  you  have 
kindly  permitted  me  to  undertake  the  task 
during  my  happy  sojourn  at  your  villa.  I 
am  your  debtor  for  this  favor,  Madame,  for 
there  are  few  occupations  which  recreate  the 
mind  so  much  as  that  of  reading  the  records 
of  historical  personages,  and  tracing  out  anec- 
dotes which  relate  to  them.  The  slight  labor 
which  this  requires  is  amply  repaid  by  the 
keen  pleasure  derived  by  being  enabled  to 
enter  in  spirit  into  other  times  and  other 
places — to  be  face  to  face  with  the  interests 
of  kings  and  queens,  great  statesmen,  illus- 
trious warriors,  the  savant  and  the  artist, 
and  also  with  those  women  who  have  been 
celebrated,  some  for  their  beauty  and  their 
talent,  and  some  also  for  their  misfortunes. 
But  nothing  equals  the  charm  which  is  at- 
tached to  the  handwriting  of  a  saint,  two 
words,  to  the  simple  signature  of  one  whose 
merit  has  been  to  fulfil  his  or  her  duties  to  an 
eminent  degree,  or  whose  persecutions  and 


128  RECOLLECTIONS 

sufferings  have  entitled  him  to  be  compared, 
like  Louis  XVI,  to  the  ancient  martyrs.  Such 
lives  are  then  more  than  memorials;  they  are 
relics. 

In  executing  the  little  task  which  I  now 
have  the  honor  of  presenting  to  you,  Madame, 
I  have  followed  the  advice  of  M.  le  Marquis 
de  Barolo,  who  proposed  that  the  autographs 
should  be  left  in  the  order  that  you  chanced 
to  receive  them,  rather  than  to  divide  them 
into  classes,  a  distinction  which  is  generally 
most  difficult  to  make  impartially,  and  which 
is  only  absolutely  necessary  to  make  in  very 
large  collections.  When  you  wish  to  find  any 
of  these  autographs,  you  have  only  to  refer 
to  the  alphabetical  table  at  the  end,  which 
indicates  the  number  of  each  piece.  I  beg 
you  to  accept  my  feeble  homage,  and  the  sen- 
timents of  deep  respect  and  attachment,  with 
which  I  glory  in  being,  Madame,  your  very 
humble  and  obedient  servant, 

SILVIO  PELLICO. 

It  would  be  difficult  for  me  to  give  any 
complete  idea  of  this  remarkable  and  most 
interesting  collection.  Saints,  priests,  popes, 
kings,  poets,  historians,  men  of  science  and 
men  of  war,  statesmen,  tragedians,  women 


CHATEAU  D'AUNAY  129 

celebrated  in  history  and  in  song,  all  have  con- 
tributed to  it.  St.  Francis  of  Assisi,  Savonarola, 
St.  Charles  Borromeo,  Pascal,  Bossuet,  Fenelon, 
Angelique  Arnaud,  among  the  number. 

The  Admiral  Coligny  writes  to  Catherine 
de  Medici,  assuring  her  of  his  fidelity  and  his 
desire  for  peace;  Jeanne  d'Albret  to  Cather- 
ine, "full  of  affection  and  confidence."  In 
the  light  of  the  great  massacre,  how  pathetic 
are  such  letters!  Five  letters  from  Ferdinand 
the  Catholic,  several  from  Charles  V,  one 
characteristic  note  from  Philip  II,  recom- 
mending a  Franciscan  monk.  Marguerite  de 
Valois,  first  wife  of  Henry  IV,  acknowledges  a 
loan  from  a  gentleman  of  10,166  crowns,  in 
1603. 

Coming  down  to  more  modern  times,  a  letter 
from  the  Comtesse  de  Mailly  to  Louis  XV: 
"I  shall  await  you  on  Sunday  with  the  great- 
est pleasure,  loving  you  as  I  do  so  madly.  It 
shows  that  I  have  no  amour  propre  to  make 
such  an  avowal  to  my  Lord.  I  embrace  you 
with  all  my  heart."  "Died,"  says  Pellico's 
note,  "in  1751,  avec  des  sentiments  de  peni- 
tence." 

From  Madame  la  Marquise  de  Pompadour 
to  a  Marshal  of  France:  "Monsieur  Tron- 
chin  is  giving  me  a  drug  to  reduce  an  en- 


130  RECOLLECTIONS 

largement  of  the  heart,  which  he  tells  me  is 
caused  by  the  very  violent  grief  I  have  suf- 
fered during  the  last  two  years.  He  tells  me 
he  could  cure  me  if  I  could  be  altogether  free 
from  trouble.  On  that  condition,  I  do  not 
see  how  I  can  ever  expect  to  be  well.  Sensi- 
bility is  a  hateful  thing,  my  friend,  do  not 
complain  of  this,  however.  What  do  you 
say,  Monsieur  le  Mare*chal?" 

Eight  pieces  from  Victor  Alfieri,  contain- 
ing sonnets  and  letters.  One  is  a  love  letter, 
written  after  he  had  cut  off  his  hair  so  as  to 
render  himself  unpresentable  before  a  woman 
he  had  loved,  and  still  loved — (Pellico's  note) 
"I  have  given  you  this  evening  the  best  proof 
of  my  weakness;  I  assuredly  hope  it  may  be 
the  last.  You  will  see,  by  what  I  here  send 
you,  that  I  am  quite  determined  not  to  re- 
tract. It  is  very  humiliating  to  me  that  the 
only  result  of  my  firmness  has  been  to  de- 
prive myself  of  my  freedom  of  will." 

Montalembert,  to  Silvio  Pellico 

June  21,  1837. 

MY   VERT  DEAR  FRIEND! 

I  beg  of  you  to  pardon  any  involuntary 
delay  in  answering  your  delightful  letter  of 
the  23rd  of  February,  and  believe  me  that, 


CHATEAU  D'AUNAY  131 

in  spite  of  my  silence,  it  has  filled  my  heart 
and  that  of  the  angel  who  shares  every  feel- 
ing of  my  life,  with  emotion  and  boundless 
gratitude.  We  shall  always  preserve  this 
letter  as  one  of  our  greatest  treasures.  Un- 
fortunately it  did  not  reach  Rome  until  some- 
time after  our  departure  from  that  city.  The 
Abbe*  Lacordaire  forwarded  it  to  me,  and  it 
arrived  at  a  time  when  I  was  in  Paris,  ab- 
sorbed in  the  studies  and  by  the  anxieties  of 
the  discussions  of  the  law  relating  to  the 
Archbishopric.  But  now  that  I  am  by  the 
side  of  my  wife,  enjoying  the  repose  of  the 
country,  I  hasten  to  offer  you  the  feeble  ex- 
pression of  the  affection  which  fills  my  heart 
for  you.  We  had  hoped  to  have  passed 
through  Turin  in  returning  from  Rome,  and 
I  had  promised  myself  the  great  pleasure  of 
seeing  you  and  of  presenting  my  wife  to  you, 
who  feels  for  you  the  most  ardent  enthusiasm. 
But  the  heavy  snows  on  the  Mount  Cenis 
obliged  us  to  take  the  Mount  St.  Gothard 
route;  thus  forcing  us  to  content  ourselves 
with  having,  while  at  Venice,  visited  that 
prison  which  you  have  described  with  such 
eloquent  resignation  in  your  immortal  book. 
We  found  on  the  adjoining  roof  some  leaves, 
which  we  gathered,  and  which  my  wife  care- 


132  RECOLLECTIONS 

\ 

fully  preserves  and,  now  and  then,  distributes 
among  your  female  admirers,  who  are  so 
numerous  in  France,  and  especially  among 
that  noble  family  into  which  I  have  entered 
through  my  marriage.  You  are  quite  right, 
my  dear  Sir,  in  saying  that  God  has  given  me  a 
"worthy  wife."  Unfortunately,  I  am  far  as 
yet  from  being  worthy  of  her.  But  I  think 
of  the  Divine  Goodness,  which  has  permitted 
me  to  find  in  the  charming  young  girl  I  have 
married  a  direct  descendant  of  the  dear  Saint 
Elizabeth.  Within  the  last  few  days,  I  have 
become  the  father  of  a  little  girl,  who  very 
naturally  has  received  the  name  of  the  dis- 
tinguished saint  from  whom  she  has  the  honor 
to  descend.* 

Adieu,  my  dear  friend.  Do  not  refuse  me 
the  privilege  of  giving  you  this  title  which  is 
most  true.  I  unite  myself  to  you  before  God 
in  the  deepest  sincerity  of  my  heart. 

LE  COMTE   DE   MONTALEMBERT. 

In  the  life  of  Montalembert,  by  Mrs.  Oli- 
phant,  is  a  touching  account  of  this  daughter 
Elizabeth,  which  may  be  appropriately  intro- 
duced in  connection  with  the  above  letter. 

*  Montalembert  married  Mademoiselle  de  Merode,  of  the  dis- 
tinguished Belgian  family  of  that  name,  sister  of  the  well-known 
Monseigneur  de  Merode. 


CHATEAU  D'AUNAY  133 

"One  day,"  says  Madame  Cochin,  "his 
charming  and  beloved  child  entered  that 
library  which  all  his  friends  know  so  well, 
and  said  to  him:  'I  am  fond  of  everything 
around  me.  I  love  pleasure,  wit,  society  and 
its  amusements;  I  love  my  family,  my  studies, 
my  companions,  my  youth,  my  life,  my  coun- 
try; but  I  love  my  God  better  than  all  and  I  de- 
sire to  give  myself  to  Him.'  And  when  he 
said  to  her:  'My  child,  is  there  anything  that 
grieves  you?'  she  went  to  the  bookshelves 
and  sought  out  one  of  the  volumes  in  which 
he  had  narrated  the  history  of  the  Monks  of 
the  West.  'It  is  you,'  she  answered,  'who 
have  taught  me  that  withered  hearts  and 
weary  souls  are  not  the  things  which  we 
ought  to  offer  to  God.'  Some  months  after," 
continues  the  same  friendly  and  sympathetic 
narrator,  "I  had  the  happiness  of  accompany- 
ing the  family  to  the  humble  sanctuary  where 
the  marriage  ceremony  was  to  take  place. 
The  priest  was  at  the  altar  to  celebrate  the 
bridal,  and  the  bride,  adorned  for  her  mar- 
riage, in  her  orange  flowers  and  bridal  veil, 
knelt  radiant  and  tender  at  the  altar.  But 
there  was  no  bridegroom.  The  bridegroom 
was  that  invisible  husband  who,  for  two 
thousand  years,  has  attached  so  many  young 


134  RECOLLECTIONS 

souls  to  him  by  bonds  which  cannot  be  broken, 
and  drawn  them  by  a  charm  which  nothing 
can  equal."  * 

*  This  chapter  was  not  completed. 

—Editor. 


VIII 

FIRST  AID  TO  THE  INJURED 

1881-1882 

IN  the  course  of  my  studies  and  inquiries  on 
the  subject  of  trained  nursing,  I  fell  into 
correspondence  with  Mr.  Rathbone,  of  Liver- 
pool, one  of  its  most  distinguished  citizens 
and  member  of  Parliament.  He  had  been 
one  of  the  earliest  promoters  of  trained 
nursing  in  England,  and  had  introduced 
the  system  into  the  workhouse  hospital  of 
Liverpool. 

It  was  Mr.  Rathbone,  if  I  remember  cor- 
rectly, who,  long  after  the  Bellevue  Training 
School  had  been  established,  sent  me  a 
pamphlet  about  the  "Saint  John  Ambulance 
Association"  of  England. 

The  members  of  this  Society,  a  lineal  de- 
scendant, so  to  speak,  of  the  Order  of  the 
Knights  of  Saint  John  of  Jerusalem,  having 

135 


136  RECOLLECTIONS 

served  under  the  flag  of  the  Red  Cross  during 
the  Franco-Prussian  War,  returned  to  Eng- 
land desirous  of  continuing  their  services  for 
the  relief  of  suffering  in  their  own  country  in 
time  of  peace.  The  feature  of  their  work  which 
especially  interested  me  was,  not  so  much  the 
establishment  of  cottage  hospitals  and  am- 
bulance systems,  but  that  of  giving  instruc- 
tion in  the  preliminary  treatment  of  injuries 
from  accident  and  other  emergencies,  which 
had  been  the  means  of  saving  many  lives 
and  of  mitigating  much  suffering.  With 
the  co-operation  of  some  of  the  most  eminent 
physicians  and  surgeons  of  England,  the  Saint 
John  Ambulance  Association,  in  1877,  or- 
ganized classes  and  arranged  for  courses  of 
lectures.  The  instruction  was  eminently  prac- 
tical— how  to  keep  a  wounded  man  from 
bleeding  to  death,  how  to  revive  a  person 
apparently  drowned,  how  to  handle  a  broken 
limb,  what  to  do  in  case  of  accident  or  sud- 
den illness  until  the  doctor  could  come.  The 
instruction  was  especially  valuable  for  police- 
men, firemen,  stevedores,  railway  employees 
and  factory  hands;  but  persons  of  all  ranks 
in  life  applied  for  instruction,  from  the  Prin- 
cess Christian  down  to  miners  and  working 
women.  In  less  than  six  years,  over  40,000 


FIRST   AID  TO  THE   INJURED  137 

pupils  had  passed  their  examinations  and  had 
received  certificates.* 

I  was  deeply  impressed  by  what  I  had 
read,  and  then  found,  as  so  often  happens, 
that  others  were  equally  interested  and  had 
also  been  collecting  information.  Among 
these  was  my  friend,  Miss  Sarah  T.  Sands,** 
of  my  own  Hospital  Committee  of  the  State 
Charities  Aid  Association.  Mr.  John  Paton, 
of  New  York,  had  written  to  her  from  Eng- 
land— this  was  in  1881 — greatly  interested  in 
the  important  work  of  the  Saint  John  Ambu- 
lance Association,  which  he  much  desired  to 
see  established  here.  He  had  also  written  a 
short  article  describing  it,  for  the  New  York 
"Christian  at  Work." 

And  here  let  me  pause  for  a  moment  to 
speak,  with  grateful  acknowledgement,  of  the 
indebtedness  of  this  country  to  England  for 
many  of  our  most  important  undertakings. 
Our  training  schools  for  nurses  owe  their 
origin  to  Miss  Nightingale,  our  Associated 
Charities  to  the  Charity  Organization  Society 
of  London,  our  After  Care  of  the  Insane  to 

*  See  paper  by  John  B.  Pine,  "First  Aid  to  the  Injured,"  read 
at  the  Tenth  Annual  National  Conference  of  Charities  and 
Correction,  Louisville,  Kentucky,  September,  1883. 

**  Now  Mrs.  John  R.  Paddock,  of  East  Orange,  N.  J. 


138  RECOLLECTIONS 

England's  initiative,  our  First  Aid  to  the  In- 
jured to  the  Saint  John  Ambulance  Associa- 
tion— these  but  a  tithe  of  what  we  owe  to 
England's  great  philanthropists. 

But  to  return.  Miss  Sands  and  I  talked 
the  matter  over  with  Mr.  Paton,  whose  first- 
hand information  of  the  work  in  England  was 
of  great  assistance  throughout,  and  decided 
that  organized  work  in  this  country  might 
better  be  undertaken  by  the  State  Charities 
Aid  Association,  a  strong,  active  society, 
commanding  the  respect  and  confidence  of 
the  public,  with  headquarters  in  New  York 
City,  and  already  engaged  in  work  for  hospi- 
tals. With  the  full  approval  and  support 
of  the  President  of  the  Association,  the  sub- 
ject was  presented  at  a  meeting  of  the  Stand- 
ing Committee  on  Hospitals.  Miss  Sands 
read  a  statement,  which  I  enlarged  upon. 
Much  interest  was  excited,  and  our  sug- 
gestion that  the  Committee  should  take 
immediate  action  was  received  with  en- 
thusiasm. 

Then  and  there,  on  the  8th  of  December, 
1881,  the  first  step  in  organization  was  taken 
for  " First  Aid"  work  in  this  country,  by  the 
appointment  of  a  Special  Committee  of  the 
Hospital  Committee  of  the  State  Charities 


FIRST  AID  TO  THE  INJURED  139 

Aid  Association,  with  power  to  act.*  The 
committee  consisted  of  Mrs.  d'Ore'mieulx,  Miss 
Sands,  and  myself  as  chairman.  From  that 
time  on,  not  a  day  was  lost.  It  was  at 
this  meeting,  if  I  remember  rightly,  that  a 
spirited  discussion  arose  about  the  name.  I 
was  not  in  favor  of  "Saint  John  Ambulance 
Association, "  because  I  thought  it  might  not 
be  understood  in  this  country.  "Let  us 
take,  instead,"  I  cried,  "a  name  which  will 
describe  what  we  mean  to  do.  Let  us  call 
ourselves  First  Aid  to  the  Injured."  The  sug- 
gestion was  adopted  by  acclamation;  and  this 
is  the  name  which,  for  work  of  this  kind,  has 
been  used  in  all  parts  of  the  country  from 
that  day  to  this. 

Our  little  committee  of  three  met  fre- 
quently at  the  house  of  Mrs.  d'Ore'mieulx, 
in  Greene  street,  then  part  of  the  Washington 
Square  fashionable  quarter,  and  there  we 
made  our  plans.  We  issued  invitations  to 
members  of  the  Association,  and  others,  for 
a  meeting  to  be  held  in  the  rooms  of  the  Asso- 
ciation, at  6  East  14th  Street.  Availing  my- 
self of  material  furnished  by  Miss  Sands  and 

*See  minutes  of  meeting,  December  8,  1881,  Hospital  Com- 
mittee minute  book,  State  Charities  Aid  Association.  See  also 
Tenth  Annual  Report,  State  Charities  Aid  Association,  Novem- 
ber, 1882,  pp.  21-23. 


140  RECOLLECTIONS 

Mr.  Paton,  in  addition  to  my  own,  I  prepared 
a  paper  to  be  read  on  that  occasion,  describing 
the  work  in  England,  and  what  we  hoped  to 
do  here.  I  wonder  what  has  become  of  that 
paper.  It  was  printed  and  passed  through 
several  editions,  but  I  have  kept  no  copy  of  it. 

The  meeting,  held  on  the  4th  of  January, 
1882,  was  well  attended,  and  resulted  in  the 
appointment  of  a  Standing  Committee  of  the 
State  Charities  Aid  Association  on  "  First  Aid 
to  the  Injured,"  of  about  forty  members. 
Subcommittees  were  appointed  and  Prelimi- 
nary steps  were  taken  for  lectures  and  for  the 
formation  of  classes. 

On  the  25th  of  January  another  meeting  of 
the  Committee  was  held,  when  General  George 
B.  McClellan  was '  elected  Chairman,  Miss 
Eleanor  Blodgett,  Secretary,  and  Mr.  John 
Paton,  Treasurer.  I  was  made  Chairman  of 
an  Executive  Committee  of  twelve,  and  we 
soon  got  to  work  in  good  earnest.* 

That  was  indeed  an  active  winter.  I  en- 
joyed the  work — the  daily  intercourse  with 
earnest,  capable  people,  the  strong  bond  of 
fellowship,  the  enthusiasm  of  the  young  doc- 
tors, our  happiness  when  a  new  class  was 

*  First  Report  of  Committee  on  First  Aid  to  the  Injured  of 
the  State  Charities  Aid  Association,  May,  1882. 


FIRST  AID  TO  THE  INJURED  141 

formed,  the  rapid  progress  made.  Of  course 
we  worked  hard — all  of  us.  To  me,  it  was 
like  the  old  days  of  the  Training  School,  with 
all  of  the  pleasures  and  none  of  the  difficulties 
—for  there  was  no  opposition  to  "First  "Aid." 
Everybody  wanted  it.  We  had  not  even 
money  to  raise,  for  the  lectures  were  given 
gratuitously,  and  most  generously  by  the 
doctors,  twenty-three  of  whom  volunteered 
their  services,  and  the  "pay  classes"  fur- 
nished the  money  to  cover  the  expenses  of 
the  free  classes. 

It  may  well  be  imagined  that  the  position 
of  our  young  Secretary,  Miss  Blodgett,  was 
no  sinecure.  Much  was  due  to  her  ability 
and  devotion  that  winter;  and  the  following 
summer  she  went  to  England  to  gather  more 
detailed  information  for  our  benefit. 

But,  first  and  most  of  all,  were  we  indebted  to 
the  physicians  and  surgeons,  without  whom 
the  work  could  not  have  been  carried  on;  and 
especially  to  Dr.  Bowditch  Morton,  son  of 
the  celebrated  discoverer  of  ether,  who  wrote 
our  manual  of  instruction,*  was  Chairman  of 
the  Medical  Committee,  and  who  also  assumed 
the  arduous  duties  of  Medical  Examiner.  Of 

*  "First  Aid  to  the  Injured,"  by  Bowditch  Morton,  M.D. 
Handbook.  Copyrighted,  1884. 


142  RECOLLECTIONS 

the  classes,  those  for  shop-girls,  dwellers  in 
tenement  houses  and  workmen's  clubs,  were 
formed  by  Miss  Sands  and  Miss  Grace  Dodge; 
for  railway  employees,  in  the  Grand  Central 
Station,  by  Mr.  Stockwell;  for  the  men  of  the 
Hoe  Printing  Press  Works  and  the  Delamater 
Iron  Works,  by  Mrs.  Robert  Hoe,  Jr.  Mrs. 
Griffin  had  charge  of  the  lecture  courses.  Mrs. 
Van  Auken  organized  the  colored  classes; 
while  the  "pay  classes,"  of  ladies  who  paid 
for  their  instruction,  were  formed  by  Miss 
Gertrude  L.  Hoyt  and  Mrs.  Henry  Oakley. 

There  were  five  lectures  to  each  course,  the 
classes  averaging  about  thirty  pupils.  Dur- 
ing the  first  hour,  oral  instruction  was  given, 
upon  hemorrhages,  wounds,  burns,  suffocation, 
broken  limbs,  shock,  other  injuries  from  acci- 
dents, sunstroke,  sudden  illness,  etc.  In  the 
last  half  hour  pupils  were  required  to  put 
into  practice  what  they  had  learned — by 
means  of  a  boy  employed  for  the  purpose,  who 
served  as ' '  ob j  ec t  lesson. ' '  Pupils  were  taught 
how  to  make  and  apply  tourniquets  and 
bandages,  how  to  compress  an  artery,  how, 
when  possible,  to  restore  respiration,  how  to 
improvise  a  stretcher  from  materials  at  hand, 
how  to  lift  and  carry  an  injured  person,  how, 
in  fact,  to  render  all  possible  assistance,  in 


FIRST  AID  TO  THE  INJURED  143 

cases  of  accident  or  emergency,  until  a  doctor 
could  be  summoned. 

Much  to  our  regret,  we  were  not  able  to 
organize  the  police  and  firemen  classes  until 
the  following  year.  And  yet,  for  persons  so 
entirely  new  to  the  work  as  we  were,  perhaps 
we  should  have  been  satisfied — for  32  courses 
of  lectures  to  22  free  and  10  pay  classes,  with 
nearly  1,000  pupils,  and  one  or  more  branch 
committees  formed  in  other  States,  is  really 
not  a  bad  record  for  a  first  six  months/ 

In  the  autumn  of  1882,  I  was  obliged  to 
sail  for  Europe,  to  be  absent  for  several  years. 
I  was  deeply  interested  in  the  work  and  re- 
gretted to  leave  it.  But  it  had  already  proved 
its  usefulness,  was  being  ably  conducted  and 
was  sure  to  go  on. 

Although  "First  Aid  to  the  Injured"  was 
started  in  this  country,  as  I  have  already 
said,  in  December,  1881,  as  a  Committee  of 
the  State  Charities  Aid  Association,  it  soon 
became  apparent  as  the  work  enlarged  and 
grew  in  importance,  that  the  Committee 
should  be  reorganized  as  an  independent  so- 
ciety, directly  responsible  to  the  community, 
and  more  able  to  extend  itself  beyond  the 

*  First  Report  of  Committee  on  "First  Aid  to  the  Injured," 
of  the  State  Charities  Aid  Association,  May,  1882. 


144  RECOLLECTIONS 

State.  With  some  reluctance  on  the  part  of 
its  members,  this  separation  from  the  parent 
Association  was  effected,  and  the  Committee 
was  reorganized  on  the  third  of  February, 
1883,  under  the  name  of  "The  Society  for 
Instruction  in  First  Aid  to  the  Injured." 
The  Hon.  John  Jay  was  elected  President, 
Mr.  John  Paton,  Treasurer,  Mr.  John  B.  Pine, 
Secretary,  and  Dr.  Bowditch  Morton,  Chair- 
man of  the  Medical  Committee  and  Medical 
Examiner.* 

That  second  year  both  classes  and  pupils 
increased  in  number,  and  the  work  had  be- 
gun to  assume  national  importance.** 

*  Annual  Report  of  "Society  for  Instruction  in  First  Aid  to 
the  Injured,"  October,  1883. 

**  "  The  Society  adopted  a  plan  of  organization  which  may  be 
briefly  stated  as  follows:  It  consists  of  a  central  body,  and  of 
branches;  the  central  body  is  composed  of  the  officers  and  man- 
agers of  the  Society,  and  of  representatives  of  the  various  branches, 
and  is  located  in  New  York  City.  It  is  the  business  of  this  body 
to  organize  branches  in  the  larger  towns  and  cities,  and  detached 
classes  in  smaller  places.  .  .  .  By  this  system  of  organi- 
zation, the  Society  obtains  that  united  action  which  is  best 
calculated  to  promote  its  objects,  and  at  the  same  time  each 
branch  preserves  its  independence  and  exercises  a  complete 
control  over  its  own  affairs,  subject  only  to  such  general  regulations 
as  are  necessary  to  secure  uniformity  of  action.  The  Society 
issues  certificates  to  pupils  passing  the  examination,  and  also 
furnishes  the  branches  with  circulars  containing  the  syllabus  of 
instruction,  rules  for  lectures  and  lecturers,  rules  and  blank 
reports  for  superintendents  of  classes,  copies  of  the  constitution 
and  by-laws,  and  also,  at  cost  price,  the  'Handbook  of  Instruc- 


FIRST  AID  TO  THE  INJURED  145 

The  first  class  formed  outside  of  New  York 
City  was  in  Orange,  N.  J.,  in  1882.  Then 
followed,  in  1883,  Providence,  R.  I.,  Brunswick 
and  Newark,  N.  J.,  Buffalo  and  Rochester, 
N.  Y.,  and  Hampton,  Va.  The  successful 
"  First  Aid  "  classes  in  Boston  were  formed,  the 
same  year,  by  the  Women's  Industrial  Union, 
and  were  called  "Emergency  Lectures."  In 
Philadelphia,  the  work  was  begun  by  Dr.  J. 
William  White,  of  the  University  of  Pennsyl- 
vania, who  gave  lectures  to  the  police  force, 
with  such  marked  results  that  a  large  mass 
meeting  was  called  at  the  Academy  of  Music, 
to  hear  the  reports  from  the  police  stations  of 
the  saving  of  lives  and  relief  of  suffering,  and 
to  establish  "First  Aid"  work  in  Philadel- 
phia on  a  firm  basis. 

Years  of  expansion  and  usefulness  followed. 
In  the  1911  report  of  the  Society,  there 
were  recorded  1,500  pupils  and  60  classes  in 
New  York  City,  for  policemen,  firemen, 
Young  Men's  and  Young  Women's  Chris- 
tian Associations,  the  Salvation  Army  and 
others. 

The  Society  continues  to  report  annually 

tion  in  First  Aid  to  the  Injured,'  which  has  been  issued  by  the 
Society,  and,  on  similar  terms,  the  necessary  appliances  for  the 
lectures." — From  Annual  Report  of  "The  Society  for  Instruction  in 
First  Aid  to  the  Injured,"  October,  18S3. 


146  RECOLLECTIONS 

to  the  State  Charities  Aid  Association,  Its 
President,  Mr.  Charles  H.  Marshall,  one  of 
its  oldest  and  most  active  members,  is  also  a 
member  of  the  New  York  State  branch  of  the 
American  Red  Cross,  the  two  societies  work- 
ing together. 

How  many  national  " First  Aid"  societies 
there  may  now  be  in  this  country,  I  do  not 
know.*  In  the  old  days  of  my  youth,  in  the 
little  villages  and  towns,  we  knew  personally 
our  poorer  neighbors,  and  helped  them  when  in 
need;  then  came  the  crowded  cities  with  their 
foreign  population,  requiring  systematized  re- 
lief-giving on  a  large  scale;  and,  finally,  social- 


*  There  are  three  national  "First  Aid"  organizations  in  the 
United  States,  more  or  less  active,  with  date  of  formation  as 
follows: 

1882.  The  "Society  for  Instruction  in  First  Aid  to  the 
Injured,"  organized  by  Mrs.  Joseph  Hobson,  January  4,  1882,  as 
a  Committee  on  "  First  Aid  to  the  Injured  "  of  the  State  Charities 
Aid  Association;  reorganized  under  its  present  name,  February 
3,  1883.  Headquarters  of  the  Society,  105  East  22d  Street,  New 
York  City. 

1905.  "The  National  First  Aid  Association  of  America," 
organized  by  Miss  Clara  Barton,  April  14,  1905.  Executive 
office,  Associates  Building,  Arlington,  Mass. 

1910.  "First  Aid  Department,  American  Red  Cross," 
officially  organized,  January,  1910,  as  a  Committee  of  the  War 
Relief  Board  of  the  American  Red  Cross.  Headquarters, 
American  Red  Cross,  715  Union  Trust  Building,  Washington, 
D.  C.  Editor. 


FIRST  AID  TO  THE   INJURED  147 

service  work — as  it  is  now  called — has  become 
nation-wide  in  scope  and  in  organization. 

A  strong  and  very  important  impetus  has 
been  given  "First  Aid"  by  the  United  States 
Government  during  the  past  year,  through 
the  organization,  in  January,  1910,  of  a 
"First  Aid  Department"  of  the  American 
Red  Cross — of  which  the  President  of  the 
United  States,  since  the  reorganization  of  the 
Red  Cross  in  1905,  is  chairman.  My  friend, 
Miss  Mabel  Boardman,  one  of  its  most  active 
and  able  members,  is  chairman  of  the  Execu- 
tive Committee.  Although  the  "First  Aid 
Department"  has  been  but  recently  estab- 
lished, it  is  already  doing  very  efficient  work. 
Two  Red  Cross  cars  now  (1911)  travel  over  the 
railroads,  giving  instruction  at  the  shops  and 
to  gatherings  of  trainmen  and  others  along 
the  route;  while  other  "First  Aid"  cars 
are  to  be  sent  to  the  mining  regions  to  furnish 
lectures  and  demonstrations  there.  And  fur- 
ther extension  is  being  planned  for  the  entire 
country. 

Nor  must  I  fail  to  mention  the  very  im- 
portant fact  that  courses  in  "First  Aid  to  the 
Injured"  are  now  part  of  the  curriculum  at 
West  Point  and  at  Annapolis.  Also  that  the 
New  York  Central  Railroad,  through  its 


148  RECOLLECTIONS 

Young  Men's  Christian  Association  depart- 
ment, gives  this  instruction  to  a  very  large 
number  of  its  employees. 

How  the  work  has  spread  from  that  small 
beginning!  Now,  boys  and  girls,  soldiers  and 
sailors,  firemen  and  policemen,  are  taught 
"First  Aid";  the  necessary  outfit  is  sold  at  all 
the  drug  stores,  and  not  to  know  how  to 
assist  in  case  of  accident  is  a  reproach  to 
every  bystander.  When  I  look  back  upon 
the  march  of  improvement  in  my  lifetime  in 
benevolence  and  philanthropy,  and  in  the 
intelligence  shown  in  doing  good,  I  rejoice 
that  I  have  been  permitted  to  have  had  a 
little  share  in  it. 


IX 

CONSTANTINOPLE 

1882-1885 

IN  1881  my  dear  husband  passed  away  most 
suddenly  from  an  attack  of  angina  pectoris, 
an  event  for  which  I  was  absolutely  unpre- 
pared. A  more  noble  nature,  a  more  high- 
minded  and  more  perfect  gentleman  never 
walked  the  earth,  very  courteous,  though  re- 
served in  manner,  disposed  to  silence  in 
society,  and  therefore  a  good  listener,  generous 
and  liberal  in  his  ideas  of  living,  devoted  to  his 
family.  I  can  only  add  the  estimate  of  General 
Sherman:  "He  was  indeed  a  gentle  gentle- 


man.'3 


I  remained  in  New  York  a  year  after  my 
husband's  death,  until  September,  1882,  and 
then  went  to  Europe  to  join  my  sister,  Mrs. 
Berdan,  who  with  General  Berdan  was  in 
Constantinople.  I  stopped  in  Paris  for  a  few 
weeks  at  the  American  Legation,  where  my 

149 


150  RECOLLECTIONS 

brother-in-law,  Mr.  Morton,  was  at  that  time 
Minister.  He  and  Mrs.  Morton  were  winning 
golden  opinions  by  the  manner  in  which  they 
were  representing  our  country. 

I  was  accompanied  on  my  journey  to  Con- 
stantinople by  my  niece  Bessie,  General 
Berdan's  daughter,  who  will  figure  in  my 
story  during  the  next  few  years.  We  made  a 
most  delightful  trip  by  way  of  Venice,  the 
Adriatic  and  Athens.  We  arrived  at  Con- 
stantinople at  a  most  interesting  political 
moment.  The  English  had  recently  defeated 
Arabi  Pasha,  and  Lord  Dufferin  was  preparing 
to  go  to  Egypt  to  assume  control  of  the 
government.  The  Sultan  was  furious  at  the 
state  of  affairs;  he  refused  to  act  with  the 
English,  and  resented  what  he  called  their 
interference. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  he  consulted  our 
Minister,  General  Wallace,  who,  as  a  distin- 
guished officer  of  our  Civil  War,  was,  he  con- 
sidered, not  only  able  to  advise  him,  but  would 
also  be  disinterested.  General  Wallace,  the 
author  of  "  Ben  Hur,"  was  an  idealist  as  well  as 
a  soldier,  so  when  the  Sultan  said:  " General, 
what  do  you  advise  me  to  do?"  the  Minister 
replied:  "Your  Majesty,  gird  on  the  sword  of 
Osman  and  lead  your  forces  yourself."  The 


CONSTANTINOPLE  151 

Sultan,  who  was  an  arrant  coward,  was  so 
flattered  at  the  suggestion,  that  General  Wal- 
lace was  a  supreme  favorite  ever  after,  and 
though  only  a  Minister,  could  always  obtain 
an  audience  with  the  Sultan  whenever  he  asked 
for  it,  in  preference  to  an  Ambassador.  I 
always  attribute  the  success  of  General  Ber- 
dan's  negotiations  with  the  Turkish  Govern- 
ment, and  the  payment  of  a  large  sum  due 
him,  to  the  well-known  partiality  of  the  Sultan 
for  our  Minister,  who,  of  course,  used  his  in- 
fluence in  behalf  of  his  countrymen. 

At  that  time,  the  diplomatic  corps  at  Con- 
stantinople was  composed  of  most  interesting 
people.  Of  Lord  Duff  erin  it  is  unnecessary  to 
say  more  than  that  I  fell  under  the  spell  he 
exercised  over  all  who  knew  him  (except  the 
Sultan,  to  whom  he  embodied  the  detested 
power  of  England);  but  I  could  never  appre- 
ciate Lord  Dufferin's  reputation  as  a  states- 
man. He  was  such  a  "charmeur,"  ready 
always  to  flirt  with  every  pretty  woman,  that 
I  could  not  take  him  seriously.  As  someone 
said,  he  was  the  "Spoiled  Child  of  the  British 
Foreign  Office."  In  Canada  he  was  adored. 
After  he  left  there,  the  Canadian  Government 
paid  his  debts  and  every  town  in  the  Dominion 
named  a  bridge  or  a  street  after  him ;  and  I 


152  RECOLLECTIONS 

shall  never  forget  the  scene  the  day  he  left  for 
India,  every  woman  in  the  British  colony  in 
tears  and  he  striving  to  show  sympathy  for 
each.  Lady  Dufferin  was  shy  and  reserved  to 
strangers,  but  in  her  intimate  circle  most 
cordial.  She  was  very  fond  of  playing  romp- 
ing games,  and  many  a  time  I  have  raced 
through  the  great  rooms  and  up  and  down  the 
stairs  of  the  Embassy  on  the  Bosphorus  with 
her,  the  children  and  the  secretaries,  in  the 
game  of  " follow  my  leader."  She  was  ad- 
mirable in  private  theatricals,  always  taking 
the  part  of  the  "jeune  premiere,"  losing  all 
her  natural  shyness  when  on  the  stage. 

How  impossible  it  is  to  form  correct  judg- 
ments of  the  future  of  young  men!  We  little 
thought,  as  they  gathered  around  our  tea 
table  and  joined  our  riding  and  water  parties, 
that  we  should  live  to  see  Goschen  Ambassador 
to  Vienna,  Lowther  Ambassador  to  Constan- 
tinople, Nicolson  to  St.  Petersburg  and  now 
head  of  the  Foreign  Office,  and  Hardinge 
Viceroy  of  India.  These  men  have  received 
their  reward;  but  the  diplomatic  service  is  full 
of  disappointments  and  deceptions,  and,  after 
a  rather  intimate  acquaintance  with  its  mem- 
bers of  different  nationalities,  I  have  come  to 
the  conclusion  that  it  is  the  most  unsatisfac- 


CONSTANTINOPLE  153 

tory  career  I  know.  In  the  first  place,  it  ex- 
patriates a  man.  If  he  succeeds,  he  must  live 
continuously  away  from  his  country,  and  al- 
though the  facilities  of  travel  are  now  such  that 
he  can  return  oftener  than  formerly,  still  he 
loses  touch  with  public  affairs  at  home,  and 
when  he  finally  returns  he  is  a  stranger  in  his 
native  land.  This  applies  most  to  those  coun- 
tries, unlike  ours,  where  there  is  a  permanent 
diplomatic  service.  I  have  noticed  that  diplo- 
mats are  always  discontented,  for  the  reason 
that  they  never  are  permanently  settled.  They 
are  naturally  always  looking  forward  to  a 
change  of  post.  Then  the  nature  of  their  pro- 
fession makes  them  suspicious  and  gossiping. 
They  must  be  ever  on  the  alert  to  see  what  their 
colleagues  are  about,  and  although  I  do  not  go 
so  far  as  old  Wotton,  who  said,  "An  Ambassa- 
dor is  an  honest  man  sent  abroad  to  lie  for  the 
commonwealth,"  still  I  confess  I  have  known 
one  or  two  who  would  have  answered  the  re- 
quirement. I  notice  in  Morley's  "Life,"  Mr. 
Gladstone  expresses  more  or  less  this  same 
opinion. 

In  corroboration  of  my  views  of  diplomacy 
as  a  career,  I  will  translate  the  following  from 
the  memoirs  of  the  Countess  de  Boigne,  the 
daughter  of  a  distinguished  French  diplomat, 


154  RECOLLECTIONS 

and  a  woman  who  had  lived  in  diplomatic 
circles  all  her  life :  "In  my  opinion  there  is  no 
career  .  .  .  where  the  honors  one  receives 
are  more  independent  of  their  real  value  and 
of  every  personal  consideration.  I  know  that 
this  career  is  generally  considered  the  most  de- 
sirable, especially  when  one  reaches  the  rank  of 
Ambassador.  I  have  only  known  it  myself  as 
such,  and  I  pronounce  it  detestable.  When 
one  has  worked  all  night  to  make  up  the  day's 
work,  and  finally  succeeds  in  carrying  out  a 
difficult  and  delicate  negotiation,  all  the  honor 
reverts  to  the  Minister,  who  has  intentionally 
sent  you  instructions  so  twisted  and  involved 
that  he  leaves  you  to  divine  his  intentions  in 
order  to  disavow  your  acts,  in  case  he  should 
so  desire.  On  the  other  hand,  if  the  nego- 
tiation fails,  the  Minister  shrugs  his  shoulders, 
calls  you  stupid,  and  you  are  powerless,  be- 
cause secrecy  being  the  fundamental  law  of 
the  profession,  you  are  forbidden  to  justify 
yourself.  I  comprehend  that  a  man  in  public 
life  might  find  it  convenient  to  accept  a  foreign 
post  for  a  certain  period,  rather  than  to  retire 
from  politics  entirely  .  .  .  but  if  he  makes  a 
prolonged  absence,  he  returns  at  the  end  of  his 
career,  to  lead,  in  his  own  country,  a  life  shut 
out  from  all  its  interests,  a  stranger  to  his 


CONSTANTINOPLE  155 

family,  with  no  intimate  friends,  and  out  of 
touch  with  those  habits  and  customs  which 
compensate  the  old  for  the  pleasures  of  youth." 

But  to  return  to  Constantinople.  A  greater 
contrast  to  Lady  Dufferin  than  the  Marquise 
de  Noailles,  wife  of  the  French  Ambassador, 
could  not  be  imagined.  She  was  a  native  of 
Poland,  but  had  gone  early  to  France  and,  with 
her  sister,  was  one  of  the  gay  ladies  of  the 
Second  Empire. 

When  I  knew  her,  she  still  had  the  remains 
of  great  beauty,  for  which  she  had  been  cele- 
brated, and  the  seductive  manners  which  had 
beguiled  the  Marquis  into  marrying  her  in 
spite  of  the  opposition  of  his  aristocratic 
family.  She  had  the  art  "d 'installation"  to  a 
great  degree,  and  the  marked  difference  of 
character  of  the  two  women  could  not  be  better 
illustrated  than  to  pass  from  the  stiff  drawing- 
rooms  of  the  English  Embassy  to  those  of  the 
French,  hung  with  Toile  de  Genes  and  over- 
flowing with  flowers.  Monsieur  de  Noailles 
had  been  previously  French  Minister  in  Wash- 
ington, and  his  wife's  comment  on  that  post 
was:  "tres  cher  et  pas  d'hommes." 

Those  Embassies  on  the  Bosphorus  always 
seemed  to  me  like  the  hanging  gardens  of 
Semiramis,  and  to  this  day  I  can  think  of  no 


156  RECOLLECTIONS 

position  for  a  woman  more  absolutely  satis- 
factory to  her  pride  and  vanity,  combining  as 
it  does  Eastern  luxury  and  the  pomp  of  power. 

The  Russian  Ambassador  at  that  time  was 
Monsieur  Nelidoff,  now  in  Paris,  and  the 
German,  Mr.  de  Radowitz,  a  most  able  man, 
later  Ambassador  in  Spain.  At  that  time 
the  German  Emperor  was  laying  his  plans  to 
undermine  the  English  influence  and  trade  in 
the  near  East.  He  was  so  ably  seconded  by 
his  Ambassador,  Mr.  de  Radowitz,  and  his 
successor,  that  German  trade  has  not  only 
now  penetrated  into  every  part  of  the  Sultan's 
dominion,  but  Germans  control  important 
positions  in  the  army  and  in  the  finance 
department. 

I  passed  two  winters  in  Pera  (the  European 
quarter  of  Constantinople)  and  two  summers 
in  a  beautiful  old  villa  at  Buyukdereh  on  the 
Bosphorus.  Being  free  from  political  affinities, 
our  house  was  neutral  ground  where  the  mem- 
bers of  the  various  nationalities  could  meet 
without  suspicion.  Even  aides-de-camp  from 
the  Palace  came  there,  when  they  would  not 
venture,  except  officially,  to  an  Embassy. 

Among  the  Turkish  officials  were  two  who 
deserve  special  notice — Rustem  Pasha  and 
Pangeris  Bey.  The  former,  an  Italian  by  birth, 


CONSTANTINOPLE  157 

but  a  loyal  subject  of  the  Sultan,  was  as 
attractive  in  his  personality  and  as  agreeable 
in  manner  as  Lord  Dufferin  himself.  After 
the  Damascene  Massacre,  which  Lord  Dufferin 
was  sent  to  subdue,  Rustem  Pasha  was  ap- 
pointed Governor  of  the  Lebanon  and  pacified 
the  religious  animosities  of  the  Druses  and 
Maronites  by  his  conciliatory  measures.  Al- 
though a  man  of  high  temper,  he  had  it  so 
wonderfully  under  control  that,  unless  one  had 
seen  it  flash  out  as  I  have  once  or  twice,  one 
would  never  have  suspected  the  passion  veiled 
by  that  calm,  courteous  exterior.  What  de- 
lightful evenings  I  have  passed  listening  to  his 
tales  of  Turkey  as  he  knew  it  in  his  youth! 
He  was  taken  there  as  a  boy  (there  was  a  good 
deal  of  mystery  about  his  origin),  and  his 
training  had  made  him  a  true  Oriental; 
while  his  intimate  knowledge  of  European 
politics  and  European  society — speaking  every 
language  perfectly — made  him  a  most  interest- 
ing companion  and  gave  him  great  advantage 
in  his  intercourse  with  his  colleagues.  I  re- 
member his  description  of  Lady  Ellenborough 
and  of  her  life  with  her  last  husband,  the  Arab 
Sheik;  also  of  Lady  Hester  Stanhope  and  her 
life  in  Syria;  Sir  Richard  Burton  and  his  re- 
markable wife;  and  his  stories  of  palace  and 


158  RECOLLECTIONS 

harem  life,  with  which  he  had  been  brought  up 
in  the  days  before  Abdul  Aziz  modernized  the 
customs.  I  used  to  think,  as  I  listened,  that  it 
was  like  the  Arabian  Nights'  tales,  with  the  sex 
of  the  story  teller  and  the  listener  reversed. 
Rustem  Pasha  died  as  Turkish  Ambassador  in 
London. 

His  account  of  Lady  Ellenborough's  life  was 
incredible.  She  was  a  Miss  Digby,  and 
granddaughter  of  the  great  Commoner,  Coke 
of  Norfolk.  At  sixteen  she  married  Lord 
Ellenborough,  an  old  and  vicious  man.  She 
ran  away  from  him  with  Prince  Swartzenberg, 
who  refused  to  marry  her  after  Lord  Ellen- 
borough  had  divorced  her.  She  then  became 
the  mistress  of  the  King  of  Bavaria,  who  mar- 
ried her  to  one  of  his  subjects  to  preserve 
appearances.  Lady  Ellenborough  tired  of 
him,  and  he  committed  suicide  when  she  de- 
serted him.  She  subsequently  deserted  five 
Italians  and  two  Greeks — a  child  of  one  of  the 
latter  was  killed  before  her  eyes — and  finally 
she  fell  desperately  in  love  with  a  young  Arab 
Sheik.  She  married  him,  according  to  the 
Moslem  rite,  at  the  age  of  fifty.  She  spent  six 
months  of  the  year  with  him  in  the  desert,  per- 
forming all  the  duties  of  a  Mohammedan  wife, 
milked  the  camels,  washed  her  husband's  feet 


CONSTANTINOPLE  159 

and  hands  and  cooked  his  food.  She  also 
supported  his  other  wives  and  children,  who 
were  kept  aloof  from  her.  With  all  this,  she 
remained  a  Christian  in  name,  and  in  her 
prayer  book  after  her  death  were  found  the 
words  written  by  her  own  hand:  " Judge  not 
that  ye  be  not  judged."  This  account  of  her, 
which  I  had  from  Rustem  Pasha,  I  have  re- 
cently seen  confirmed,  almost  word  for  word, 
in  the  life  of  Coke  of  Norfolk,  her  grandfather. 
To  my  other  friend,  Pangeris  Bey,  I  owe 
much  in  the  way  of  pleasure  and  information. 
He  belonged  to  one  of  those  famous  families 
who  have  been  in  the  service  of  the  Sultan 
since  the  conquest  of  Constantinople,  as  loyal 
subjects;  but,  like  the  Jews  who  are  waiting 
the  coming  of  the  Messiah,  they  are  silently 
anticipating  the  moment  when  the  Greeks  will 
come  into  their  own  again,  and  then  they  ex- 
pect to  rule  in  the  palaces  of  their  conquerors. 
Of  such  are  the  Masurus,  Condoriotti,  Mav- 
royeni,  Aristarchi,  names  of  European  repu- 
tation, for  they  are  always  in  the  diplomatic 
service  of  the  Sultan.  Pangeris  had  nothing 
Turkish  about  him;  he  was  pure  Greek,  small 
in  stature,  but  perfectly  formed,  and  very 
athletic,  a  distinguished  officer,  having  been 
aide-de-camp  to  Osman  Pasha  during  the 


160  RECOLLECTIONS 

Russo-Turkish  War,  speaking  five  languages 
fluently  and  with  vast  knowledge  of  the 
world.  He  was  at  first  a  most  interesting 
acquaintance  and  later  a  most  valued  friend. 
On  Fridays,  after  the  Selamlik,  in  summer  he 
would  come  for  me  and  my  niece,  and  take 
us  in  one  of  the  palace  caiques  up  the  Bos- 
phorus.  We  would  land  at  one  of  the  pic- 
turesque little  villages  which  line  the  shores, 
where  we  would  sit  under  the  trees  and  drink 
coffee,  and  watch  from  a  discreet  distance  the 
Turkish  women  and  children.  I  recall  the  in- 
terest we  felt  in  the  brother  of  the  Sultan  im- 
prisoned in  the  beautiful  palace  of  Dolma 
Batchi.  One  day  we  questioned  our  friend 
about  him,  as  we  were  passing  in  the  caique. 
Pangeris  turned  his  head  away,  and  was  silent. 
After  we  had  passed,  he  said  in  an  undertone : 
"  Ladies,  if  these  men  who  are  rowing  us  under- 
stood you,  and  were  to  report  your  remarks, 
it  would  cost  me  my  post  and  possibly  my 
head." 

Pangeris  would  often  take  us  to  the  beautiful 
villas  of  the  Turks  and  the  Greeks  on  the 
Bosphorus,  where  we  would  visit  the  ladies, 
to  whom  we  were  as  great  objects  of  interest 
as  they  were  to  us.  They  never  could  under- 
stand why  my  niece  was  not  married.  An  old 


CONSTANTINOPLE  161 

eunuch  told  Pangeris  she  was  worth  two 
thousand  dollars!  In  the  winter,  Pangeris 
would  take  us  to  the  mosques  and  bazaars. 
He  taught  me  how  to  distinguish  one  kind  of 
carpet  from  another,  how  to  fix  their  value  as 
well  as  that  of  embroideries,  and  I  owe  to  his 
advice  the  purchase  of  a  Persian  carpet  which 
is  one  of  my  most  valuable  possessions.  He 
became  the  intimate  friend  of  Marion  Craw- 
ford, and  figures  in  "Paul  Patoff"  as  Bal- 
samides  Bey.  His  great  ambition  was  to 
come  to  Washington  as  Minister,  but  his 
views  were  too  democratic  to  suit  the  Sultan 
as  his  representative  in  America,  and  he  died 
as  Secretary  of  the  Embassy  in  Rome.* 

Apropos  of  the  bazaars,  I  made  some  pur- 
chases of  tiles  for  friends  in  New  York  which 
afforded  me  a  great  deal  of  entertainment. 
I  learned  upon  inquiry  that  some  very  rare  and 
valuable  tiles  were  in  the  possession  of  a 
dentist  who,  through  his  professional  duties 
at  the  Palace,  had  obtained  a  contract  for 
repairing  a  very  beautiful  mosque.  In  so 
doing,  he  had  abstracted  a  large  number  of  the 
best  tiles  and  substituted  imitations.  Mindful 

*  Since  writing  the  above,  the  young  Turkish  party  has  driven 
the  Sultan  from  the  throne,  and  Turkey  ia  enjoying  liberty  of 
thought  and  speech  for  the  first  time  in  its  history. 


162  RECOLLECTIONS 

of  my  folly  in  letting  the  tiles  in  South 
America  slip  through  my  fingers,  I  resolved  to 
get  possession  of  these.  I  found  the  only  way 
to  see  them  was  to  make  a  professional  en- 
gagement with  the  dentist.  My  friend,  a 
collector,  who  had  given  me  the  information, 
and  who  had  seen  the  tiles,  was  willing  to 
wager  a  beautiful  piece  of  embroidery  that  my 
efforts  at  getting  a  glimpse  of  them  would  be 
unsuccessful.  I  found  the  dentist  in  a  gloomy 
old  Turkish  house  literally  overflowing  with 
bric-a-brac  of  every  kind,  not  excepting  the 
room  where  he  practised  his  profession,  re- 
gardless of  germs  and  innocent  of  antiseptics. 
After  permitting  a  preliminary  examination 
of  my  teeth,  I  turned  to  the  nearest  "objet 
de  vertu"  near  me,  and  having  acquired  a 
certain  familiarity  with  the  jargon  of  the  col- 
lector, I  soon  succeeded  in  making  him  think 
that  I  was  a  true  virtuoso,  and  we  fell  into  dis- 
cussions over  the  Tanagra  figures  and  Greek 
and  Egyptian  pottery  scattered  about,  but  I 
did  not  discover  a  single  tile.  Gradually,  I 
induced  him  to  lead  me  from  room  to  room, 
until  finally  he  opened  a  door,  and  lo!  there 
they  were,  the  floor  and  walls  covered  with 
them!  I  restrained  my  exclamations  of  ad- 
miration because  I  was  told  that  he  was  very 


CONSTANTINOPLE  163 

cautious  about  showing  them,  having  stolen 
them  from  the  mosque.  I  waited  long  enough 
to  satisfy  myself  that  there  was  nothing  finer 
in  Constantinople  and  that  I  must  have  them 
at  any  cost.  I  deputed  the  collector  to  make 
an  offer  for  them.  He  reported  that  the 
dentist  said  his  wife  was  not  willing  to  part 
with  them,  but  he  added :  "Patience,  everything 
comes  to  those  who  know  how  to  wait." 
Three  months  passed,  and  no  signs  of  success 
and  no  word  from  the  dentist  until  one  evening, 
at  a  ball,  my  friend  the  collector  whispered  in 
my  ear:  "the  dentist  is  dead!  Now  is  your 
chance."  Negotiations  were  entered  into  with 
the  dentist's  son,  and  finally  I  obtained  the 
choice  and  the  number  I  required,  when  an- 
other question  arose:  how  shall  we  get  them 
out  of  the  country? — the  Turkish  Custom 
officials  being  as  keen  for  export  duty  as  those 
in  New  York  for  imports — when  the  owner  of  a 
yacht  came  to  my  assistance.  He  agreed  to 
send  his  sailors  for  the  box,  which  he  did,  and 
deposited  it  on  the  deck  of  his  ship,  whence  it 
sailed  to  America,  and  in  due  course  of  time  the 

tiles  found  their  place  in  Mr.  C 's  house. 

I  may  add  here  that  when  Sir  Purden  Clarke 
called  to  see  me  in  Washington,  a  short  time 
ago,  he  said,  looking  at  the  few  I  had  retained 


164  RECOLLECTIONS 

for  myself:  "I  know  where  they  come  from, 
and  those  you  did  not  take  are  now  in  the 
South  Kensington  Museum." 

One  of  the  most  interesting  events  of  my 
life  in  Constantinople  was  connected  with  the 
marriage  of  my  niece,  Bessie  Berdan,to  Marion 
Crawford.  He  had  made  her  acquaintance  in 
America  on  his  return  from  India;  and  after 
the  publication  of  "Mr.  Isaacs"  and  "Dr. 
Claudius,"  he  resolved  to  go  and  seek  the  girl 
on  whom  he  had  set  his  heart  before  he  had 
attained  the  reputation  those  books  had 
brought  him.  He  told  me  how  he  came  to 
write  "Mr.  Isaacs."  He  was  in  a  very  de- 
pressed frame  of  mind.  Various  schemes  had 
failed  which  he  had  attempted,  and  he  was 
down  on  his  luck.  One  day  he  was  telling  his 
uncle,  Mr.  Sam  Ward  (of  the  torchlight 
statues  in  San  Francisco),  some  anecdotes  of 
his  East  Indian  experiences  when  the  old 
gentleman  put  a  pen  into  his  hand,  exclaiming: 
"Sit  down  at  that  table  and  write  it  all  out"; 
which  he  did,  and  in  a  short  time  "  Mr.  Isaacs  " 
was  finished.  Mr.  Ward  took  the  manuscript 
to  a  publisher,  who  accepted  it  without  hesita- 
tion. The  first  edition  was  sold  out  in  a  few 
days,  his  fame  was  made  and  a  new  nov- 
elist was  given  to  the  English-reading  world. 


CONSTANTINOPLE  165 

Mr.  Crawford  arrived  in  Constantinople  most 
unexpectedly,  and  immediately  commenced  to 
pay  court  to  the  young  lady.  She  had  already 
around  her  a  number  of  admirers.  The  arrival 
on  the  scene  of  an  American  of  quiet,  reserved 
demeanor  did  not  at  first  disturb  them.  At  the 
hour  of  afternoon  tea,  when  they  were  wont  to 
assemble,  Marion  would  seat  himself  on  a 
wood-box  near  my  sister's  tea  table  and  de- 
vote himself  to  her  and  to  me,  and  not 
attempt  to  interfere  with  Bessie's  circle.  But  he 
would  persistently  sit  them  out,  and  they  did 
not  suspect  that  he  often  stopped  to  dinner 
and  thus  had  ample  opportunity  to  plead  his 
cause.  Gradually  it  began  to  dawn  upon  the 
others  that  there  was  a  dangerous  rival  hi  the 
field,  especially  when  they  heard  their  several 
ambassadors  assert  that  he  was  the  cleverest 
fellow  they  had  met  for  a  long  time — when  Lord 
Dufferin  took  him  off  in  his  boat  for  hours  to 
talk  about  India,  when  Mr.  de  Radowitz 
sought  his  opinion  of  his  Tanagra  figures,  and 
he  was  found  to  be  an  accomplished  yachts- 
man and  athlete.  It  moved  my  sense  of 
humor  to  see  their  amazement  as  Marion's 
various  qualities,  intellectual  and  social,  re- 
vealed themselves,  and  they  had  to  like  and 
admire  him  in  spite  of  his  rivalry,  so  that  the 


166  RECOLLECTIONS 

day  the  engagement  was  announced,  like  the 
good  fellows  they  were,  they  heartily  con- 
gratulated him  while  they  acknowledged  their 
defeat. 

With  Mr.  Crawford  and  Pangeris  Bey  we 
penetrated  into  the  most  obscure  quarters  of 
Stamboul.  We  witnessed  that  most  barbaric 
and  terrible  service  by  which  the  Persians 
commemorate  the  death  of  Ali.  The  sight  of 
those  fanatics,  bleeding  from  their  self-imposed 
wounds,  shouting  madly  as  they  rushed  past 
us,  made  me  so  faint  that  I  begged  the  Persian 
Ambassador,  in  whose  loge  we  sat,  to  take  me 
away.  "It  would  be  at  the  cost  of  your  life 
and  mine,  Madam,  to  enter  that  crowd,"  he 
said.  So  for  two  hours  we  watched  and 
listened  to  the  howls  and  shrieks  of  the  wor- 
shippers of  the  Mohammedan  sect  to  which  the 
Persians  belong.  In  strong  contrast  to  this 
scene  was  the  solemn  and  devout  service  of  the 
Turks  at  Santa  Sophia,  at  the  feast  of  Rama- 
zan,  so  vividly  described  in  "  Paul  Pa  toff."  We 
stood  in  the  gallery  of  the  grand  old  Christian 
temple,  now  converted  into  a  Turkish  mosque, 
and  looked  down  on  to  the  devout  worshippers 
who,  to  the  number  of  five  thousand,  rose  and 
fell  on  their  knees  with  military  precision  as 
the  Ulema  chanted  the  prayers.  Mr.  Craw- 


CONSTANTINOPLE  167 

ford  has  given  a  most  graphic  description  of 
the  scene  in  his  novel  "  Paul  Patoff " ;  in  fact, 
the  book  is  full  of  incidents  which  actually 
occurred.  Several  years  after,  when  my  niece 
went  to  Constantinople,  the  old  man  in  the 
bazaar  who  figures  in  the  novel  brought  her  a 
beautiful  piece  of  stuff  as  a  present,  which  she 
declined  as  being  too  valuable.  He  said: 
"  Please  take,  lady,  your  husband  has  made  my 
fortune. ' '  On  the  same  visit  they  were  passing 
out  of  a  door  in  Santa  Sophia,  when  the  guide 
said:  "It  was  from  this  door  that  Paul  Patoff 
disappeared";  in  fact,  they  found  that  Paul 
Patoff  was  a  guide  book  to  Constantinople. 
One  of  the  charms  of  Mr.  Crawford's  books  is 
that  the  descriptions  of  scenery  and  character 
are  so  accurate,  for  he  never  lays  the  scene  of  a 
novel  in  a  place  unfamiliar  to  him.  During 
the  three  months  he  passed  on  the  Bosphorus 
that  summer,  he  lived  with  Pangeris  Bey  in  a 
little  kiosk  on  the  hillside,  where  he  studied 
the  Turkish  people  and  the  language;  and  such 
progress  did  he  make  with  the  latter,  that  we 
were  able  shortly  to  dispense  with  our  drago- 
man when  we  went  to  the  bazaars  and  used 
his  services  instead. 

I  got  very  fond  of  the  old  Turks  in  the 
bazaars.     They  were  so  different  from  the 


168  RECOLLECTIONS 

Greeks,  Armenians  and  Jews,  much  more 
honest  and  liberal.  In  fact,  there  were  two 
whose  opinions  I  always  trusted  and  con- 
sulted and  some  of  my  best  purchases  I  owe  to 
their  good  offices.  One  day  I  overheard  the 
red-haired  guide,  whom  I  employed  to  show 
me  the  way  when  I  first  went  there,  speaking 
a  mongrel  sort  of  Spanish  to  another,  who 
looked  like  his  brother.  I  was  so  surprised 
that  I  listened  to  satisfy  myself  that  my  ears 
did  not  deceive  me  and  then  said  to  him: 
"Where  did  you  learn  Spanish?"  "It  is  my 
language,"  he  replied,  and  then  explained  that 
he  was  a  Spanish  Jew,  descended  from  a  colony 
which  settled  at  Salonica  at  the  time  of  the 
expulsion  of  the  Jews  from  Spain  by  Ferdinand 
and  Isabella,  and  who  had  retained  their  re- 
ligion and  language  while  becoming  Turkish 
subjects. 

Now  I  must  go  back  to  Buyukdereh,  and 
the  wedding  which  took  place  on  a  beautiful 
morning  in  October,  1884.  A  short  time 
before,  my  niece,  Susie  Lay,  the  daughter  of 
my  sister  Caroline,  had  arrived,  a  charming  girl 
of  seventeen.  Then,  early  in  the  morning  the 
bride  and  groom,  General  and  Mrs.  Berdan, 
Susie  Lay  and  I  repaired  to  the  little  French 
Catholic  church,  where  we  were  met  by  the 


CONSTANTINOPLE  169 

Austrian  and  German  Ambassadors  who  were 
the  witnesses,  and  there  the  Roman  Catholic 
rite  was  performed.  At  twelve,  the  Protestant 
ceremony  took  place  in  the  salon  of  the  villa, 
where  orange  trees  hi  full  bloom  were  massed 
against  hangings  of  crimson  and  gold,  loaned 
to  us  by  our  friends  in  the  bazaar  to  hide  the 
bare  walls.  At  the  end  of  the  room  the  trees 
were  arranged  to  give  a  Gothic  effect,  and 
there  the  Protestant  rite  was  performed  by  the 
German  pastor,  in  the  presence  of  a  most  dis- 
tinguished company.  The  various  nation- 
alities present  reminded  me  of  the  assemblage 
on  the  day  of  Pentecost.  And  thus  Marion  and 
Bessie  were  married  and  left  us  to  go  to  Sor- 
rento, which  has  been  their  home  ever  since, 
where  he  has  written  his  delightful  Italian 
romances  and  where  they  have  brought  up  an 
interesting  family. 

At  present  there  is  a  good  deal  of  talk  about 
the  emancipation  of  the  Turkish  women,  and 
Pierre  Loti  has  written  a  rather  interesting 
novel  on  that  subject.  It  was  my  good  for- 
tune to  make  the  acquaintance  of  a  lady  who 
was  a  genuine  "e* manciple."  She  was  an 
Egyptian  by  birth,  married  to  a  Turk.  She 
spoke  French  very  well,  had  been  several 
times  to  Europe  and  had  a  superficial  knowl- 


170  RECOLLECTIONS 

edge  of  our  language  and  customs.  She  in- 
vited me  on  one  occasion  to  go  to  her  house  in 
the  evening.  I  went,  taking  my  niece  with 
me.  Several  men  were  there  who  made 
themselves  so  much  at  home  and  whose  be- 
havior was  so  free  that  I  felt  much  embar- 
rassed. Finally  my  good  friend  Rustem 
Pasha  came  in.  He  looked  much  surprised 
when  he  saw  us  and  whispered  to  me:  "You 
must  not  stay  here.  Get  away  as  soon  as 
possible.  Take  my  carriage  if  yours  is  not 
there."  Accordingly,  I  made  my  excuses  and 
departed.  Rustem  explained  to  me  after- 
wards that  Madame  H had  rendered  her- 
self declassee  among  the  Turks  by  her  efforts 
to  emancipate  her  sex;  that  the  Turkish  ladies 
turned  their  backs  on  her  and  that  the  Sultan 
highly  disapproved  of  her.  She  was  so  igno- 
rant of  our  customs  that  she  could  not  dis- 
tinguish between  familiarity  and  intimacy  and 
allowed  the  men  who  came  to  her  house  the 
freedom  of  the  demi-monde. 

I  asked  Madame  H afterwards  how  she 

was  going  to  manage  her  daughters,  whom  she 
allowed  to  go  to  dancing  school  at  one  of  the 
Embassies  and  to  ride,  etc.,  when  the  time 
came  to  put  on  their  jashmaks  and  live  in  the 
harem.  She  replied  she  hoped  to  marry 


CONSTANTINOPLE  171 

them  to  men  of  advanced  ideas,  who  would 
give  them  freedom,  adding,  "In  all  new  move- 
ments there  must  be  martyrs.  My  children 
may  have  to  suffer,  but  the  time  is  coming 
when  we  must  have  our  rights,  though  it  may 
be  long  before  it  comes.  Progress  is  slow  in 
Mohammedan  countries."  After  the  evening 
passed  at  her  home,  I  could  not  but  regret  that 
she  had  not  fallen  into  better  hands  for  advice 
and  direction,  as  she  had  courage  and  ability 
and  might  have  done  much  for  her  sex;  for  I 
suppose  there  must  be  many  women  in  the 
East  waiting  for  an  opportunity  to  claim 
their  freedom.* 

So  far  as  I  could  learn  the  men  showed  no 
desire  to  emancipate  the  women.  It  is  against 
etiquette  to  speak  to  a  man  about  his  wife, 
even  to  ask  for  her  health.  I  remember  on  a 
steamer  going  down  the  Sea  of  Marmora  on  the 
way  to  Brousa,  was  a  distinguished  Turk  who 
knew  us  very  well.  His  wife  and  children 
were  on  board,  hidden  behind  an  awning. 
He  would  come  and  talk  with  us  frequently, 
then  return  to  them,  but  never  alluded  to 
them.  At  Brousa,  where  we  stayed  several 

*  Freedom  has  at  last  come  for  them.  The  Turkish  women 
go  about  the  streets  unveiled — hold  meetings  where  social  and 
literary  matters  are  discussed  and  are  claiming  their  rights. 
(1911). 


172  RECOLLECTIONS 

days,  we  lived  in  adjoining  houses.  He  came 
to  see  us  constantly,  after  putting  his  wife  and 
children  into  a  carriage  and  sending  them  off 
to  drive.  Brousa  is  a  most  interesting  old 
Turkish  town  at  the  foot  of  Mount  Olympus, 
untouched  by  western  influence,  full  of  won- 
derful mosques  and  should  be  visited  by  all 
travellers.  I  lunched  one  day  with  a  Turkish 
lady  and  her  children.  Among  the  female 
servants  waiting  at  the  table  was  one,  very 
fair,  with  golden  hair  and  wearing  a  great 
many  chains  and  ornaments.  After  luncheon 
I  asked  my  hostess  who  the  servant  was  who 
seemed  so  different  from  the  rest.  She  replied : 
"She  is  a  slave  of  my  husband,  and  the  child 
she  waited  on  is  hers,"  adding,  "of  course  at 
my  husband's  table  all  his  children  have  a 
right  to  sit!"  These  are  only  some  of  the 
many  instances  I  could  cite  to  prove  how  far 
apart  are  the  Christian  and  Moslem  points  of 
view,  and  how  unlikely  it  is  that  they  can 
ever  be  reconciled. 

Speaking  of  Brousa  recalls  a  tragic  incident 
that  occurred  to  a  son  of  Macmillan  the  pub- 
lisher. He,  with  one  of  the  Secretaries  of  the 
English  Embassy,  started  from  Brousa  to  as- 
cend Mount  Olympus.  They  made  the  ascent 
successfully,  and  on  returning  Mr.  Macmillan 


CONSTANTINOPLE  173 

proposed  that  they  should  take  different  roads, 
and  the  guide  accompanied  Mr.  Hardinge, 
while  Mr.  Macmillan  started  alone,  the  de- 
scent being  easy  and  the  road  well  defined. 
On  reaching  the  rendezvous,  Mr.  Macmillan 
did  not  appear.  The  guide  returned  to  look  for 
him  while  Mr.  Hardinge,  the  present  Viceroy 
of  India  (1910),  went  for  the  police.  The 
next  morning  soldiers  were  sent  to  patrol  the 
mountains,  without  success.  Orders  were 
sent  from  the  Porte  to  leave  nothing  undone  to 
find  the  young  man.  Large  rewards  were 
offered,  but  from  that  day  to  this  not  a  trace 
has  been  found  of  him.  It  is  supposed  that  he 
was  robbed  and  killed  by  shepherds,  who 
buried  him.  While  I  was  in  the  East  many 
English  travellers  were  seized  and  held  for 
ransom,  till  finally  the  English  Government 
made  it  known  that  they  would  pay  no  more, 
under  any  circumstances,  and  soon  the  out- 
rages ceased. 

In  the  light  of  recent  events  one  cannot  but 
regret  that  the  Russians  were  not  allowed  to 
take  Constantinople  when,  after  the  Russo- 
Turkish  War,  they  were  at  its  gates.  Evil  as 
the  Russian  rule  is,  it  is  better  than  Turkish. 
Russia  would  have  been  satisfied  with  the 
"Warm  water  port"  and  a  door  to  the  Med- 


174  RECOLLECTIONS 

iterranean.  She  would  not  have  been  forced 
to  turn  enviously  to  the  far  East,  and  the 
Russo-Japanese  War  might  not  have  taken 
place.  All  this  might  have  been  if  England 
had  obtained  possession  of  Egypt  and  the 
Suez  Canal  ten  years  earlier.  When  I  was  in 
Constantinople,  twenty-five  years  ago,  the 
wise  ones  would  wag  their  heads  and  prophesy 
that  "This  rotten  government  can't  last  much 
longer,  it  is  crumbling  now." 

Since  then,  the  wonderful  Turkish  revolu- 
tion has  taken  place,  inspired  and  carried 
out  by  the  officers  sent  to  Germany  and 
France  to  be  educated  and  who  there 
learned  not  only  military  tactics  but  the  ideas 
of  political  freedom.  The  Sultan  still  sits  on 
his  throne,  and  although  he  has  lost  the  sup- 
port of  England,  he  has  gained  that  of 
Germany  and  still  continues  to  play  off  the 
Great  Powers  against  each  other  to  baffle 
them. 

One  of  the  interesting  figures  in  Constan- 
tinople was  Edgar  Vincent,  then  in  the  Otto- 
man Bank,  young,  about  twenty-five,  full  of 
energy,  talent  and  executive  ability,  and  as 
handsome  as  a  Greek  god.  He  was  chosen  by 
Lord  Dufferin  to  go  to  Egypt  as  financial  ad- 
viser of  the  Khedive,  and  he  advised  so  sue- 


CONSTANTINOPLE  175 

cessfully  that  the  Egyptian  financiers  were 
relieved  from  their  embarrassments  and  were 
started  on  the  road  of  their  present  prosperity. 
Nothing  is  more  noticeable  in  the  modern 
history  of  England  than  the  remarkable  men 
she  has  sent  to  the  far  East  in  her  service  and 
in  that  of  the  governments  she  protects. 
Those  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  knowing, 
have  all  been  not  only  able,  but  gentlemen  in 
the  best  sense  of  the  word,  which  cannot  be 
said  of  all  those  of  other  nationalities  in  cor- 
responding positions. 

In  the  spring  of  1885  I  left  Constantinople, 
after  a  residence  of  three  years,  feeling  that  I 
knew  a  little  something  of  the  place.  The 
only  way  to  know  a  country  is  to  live  in  it  and 
know  its  people.  When  I  see  my  friends 
nowadays  whizzing  through  countries  in  auto- 
mobiles, seeing  nothing  of  the  daily  life  of  the 
people,  knowing  nothing  of  the  customs,  not 
speaking  the  languages  and  obtaining  only  a 
kaleidoscopic  view  of  the  scenery,  I  rejoice 
that  I  started  my  travels  on  a  mule  and  in  a 
sailing  vessel,  continued  them  in  carriages  and 
railways,  to  say  nothing  of  boats,  rickshaws 
and  sedan  chairs.  Now  my  travels  are  over; 
otherwise  I  am  sure  I  should  follow  the  fashion 
and  run  about  in  an  automobile  like  my 


176  RECOLLECTIONS 

friends  and,  like  them,  think  I  had  really 
seen  and  enjoyed  the  various  countries  I 
passed  through,  at  the  rate  of  fifty  miles 
an  hour. 


X 

ITALY 

1885-1886 

F7ROM  Constantinople  I  went  to  France 
L  and  from  France  to  Italy,  in  the  spring 
of  1885.  On  reaching  Italy  I  went  to  Sorrento, 
to  be  near  my  sister,  Mrs.  Berdan,  and  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Marion  Crawford.  We  spent  the  summer 
together  at  the  Hotel  Cocumella,  formerly  a 
large  convent,  where  we  slept  in  the  cells  of 
the  monks  and  passed  our  days  in  the  loggias. 
Aside  from  my  family,  we  had  for  companions 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  William  Henry  Hulburt.  I  must 
speak  of  this  extraordinary  man  as  I  knew  him, 
not  as  the  world  judged  him.  Gifted  intel- 
lectually far  beyond  the  average,  with  rare 
acquirements,  both  literary  and  artistic,  and  a 
vivid  memory,  a  keen  sense  of  humor  and 
readiness  of  repartee,  he  made  a  most  de- 
lightful companion;  and  those  dinners  on  the 
loggias,  the  Mediterranean  at  our  feet  and 

177 


178  RECOLLECTIONS 

Vesuvius  smoking  in  the  distance,  when  he 
and  Mr.  Crawford  discussed  art,  literature  and 
politics,  still  linger  in  my  memory.  Under 
Mr.  Hulburt's  guidance  I  visited  Pompeii  and 
Salerno.  No  need  of  a  guide  book.  Pliny 
and  Horace  and  Virgil  were  our  guides  through 
our  clever  countryman :  and  when  I  hear  him 
abused  and  despised,  I  think  of  him  as  I  knew 
him,  so  kindly,  interesting  and  amusing,  and  I 
feel  that  I  must  bear  my  testimony  to  the  man 
who  had  so  many  sides,  of  which  I  knew  the 
best. 

It  was  at  Sorrento,  not  long  after,  that 
Marion  Crawford  bought  and  remodelled  the 
beautiful  villa  where  he  has  written  his  best 
novels,  and  where  every  room  shows  the 
marks  of  his  taste.  There  he  died,  in  1909, 
and  there  his  widow,  my  dear  niece  Bessie 
Crawford,  and  her  children  now  live. 

I  passed  the  winter  of  1885-1886  in  Florence. 
I  had  a  pleasant  apartment  in  the  Via  Monte- 
bello,  and,  by  the  aid  of  a  few  letters  of  intro- 
duction, was  soon  launched  into  Florentine 
society.  My  dear  friend,  Mrs.  Woodworth, 
was  there  and  we  revived  the  happy  intimacy 
of  former  days. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  acquaintances  I 
made  in  Florence  was  that  of  the  Dowager 


ITALY  179 

Duchess  of  Sermoneta,  nee  Ellis,  and  widow 
of  the  "  blind  Duke,"  the  only  Roman  Prince 
who  supported  Victor  Emanuel  and  the  cause 
of  United  Italy.  The  Duke  was  a  man  of  high 
literary  attainments,  a  Dante  scholar,  and  a 
connoisseur  in  Italian  antiquities.  His  de- 
scendants are  to-day  among  the  most  promi- 
nent of  the  great  Roman  nobility  who  are 
identified  with  the  progress  of  the  country. 

My  friend,  the  Duchess,  was  an  English- 
woman, granddaughter  of  a  Duke  of  Portland, 
and  very  rich  in  her  own  right.  She  lived  in  a 
dingy  old  palace  stuffed  with  Italian  antiq- 
uities of  every  sort,  but  all  interesting  and 
good.  One  evening,  after  dinner,  I  asked  her 
if  she  would  show  me  her  laces.  She  rang  the 
bell,  and  told  the  footman  to  bring  the  box  of 
laces.  I  naturally  expected  to  see  him  return 
with  a  paper  box  in  his  hand;  instead,  two  men 
staggered  in  under  the  weight  of  a  huge 
carved  "cassone,"  with  an  iron  key  a  foot 
long.  We  were  four  hours  examining  the 
laces.  I  asked  her  how  she  came  to  make  such 
a  collection.  She  replied:  " My  aunt  gave  me 
a  thousand  pounds  for  my  trousseau.  My 
husband  was  blind  and  would  not  appreciate 
lingerie,  so  I  thought  I  would  spend  it  in  col- 
lecting lace."  There  were  priests'  garments  of 


180  RECOLLECTIONS 

Venise  and  Spanish  point,  flounces  and  collars 
of  Flanders  and  Holland,  some  remarkable 
specimens  of  the  earliest  French  lace,  made  at 
the  time  Colbert  introduced  the  manufacture 
into  France,  Point  d'Angleterre  such  as  I  have 
never  seen  since,  specimens  of  English  lace  of 
every  period;  and  I  remember  even  now  the 
beauty  of  a  jabot  which  might  have  belonged 
to  a  Lauzun  or  a  Hamilton.  The  old  embroi- 
deries were  wonderful:  from  the  Greek  Isles 
and  from  Venice,  from  Sicilian  and  Spanish 
convents  and  churches,  and  there  was  a  baby's 
layette  of  Point  de  Venise!  The  Duchess  is 
dead.  I  wonder  who  has  inherited  the  laces, 
the  jewels,  the  rare  old  carvings,  the  pictures 
and  prints,  tapestries  and  books.  I  presume 
they  have  all  gone  to  England,  that  store- 
house of  Europe. 


XI 

THE  HOLY  LAND 
APRIL,  1895 

ONE  of  the  greatest  disappointments  of  my 
travels  was  my  trip  to  Palestine.  The 
landing  at  Jaffa,  the  ancient  Joppa,  was  ludi- 
crous and  might  have  been  tragic.  I  had  never 
been  warned  that  it  was  a  dangerous  port;  in 
fact,  no  port  at  all.  The  sea  was  rough  that 
morning,  but  I  am  so  little  accustomed  to 
regard  the  weather  at  sea  that  it  did  not  occur 
to  me  to  look  into  the  method  of  our  landing. 
The  steamer  anchored,  and  I  went  on  deck 
with  my  friend,  Mrs.  Osborn,  to  disembark. 
I  saw  the  dragoman  speak  to  her.  He  took 
her  wrap,  she  rose  and  went  to  the  gangway 
and,  as  I  supposed,  walked  down  the  ladder  to 
the  boat.  The  dragoman  returned  and  said: 
"Lady,  will  you  come?"  I  followed,  and  as  I 
reached  the  gangway  I  was  lifted  bodily  by 

181 


182  RECOLLECTIONS 

a  stout  sailor  and  thrown  like  a  bundle  into 
the  arms  of  a  sailor  standing  in  the  boat  below! 
I  must  have  passed  at  least  ten  feet  through 
the  air,  and  when  I  recovered  from  my  sur- 
prise and  my  rage,  I  found  my  dear  friend 
sitting  in  the  stern,  in  the  attitude  and  act  of 
prayer.  A  stout  Greek  followed  me  in  the 
same  way,  while  his  sea-sick  wife  shouted  and 
howled  with  fright.  Shortly  the  bags  and 
baggage  were  pitched  down,  as  we  were,  and 
then  we  started  for  the  shore.  It  was  a 
perilous  passage  between  rocks  and  shoals, 
and  when  we  landed  we  were  assailed  by  the 
Arabs,  who  so  quarrelled  and  shouted  over  us 
and  our  possessions,  that  my  nerves  gave  way 
and  I  burst  into  tears,  the  first  time  in  all  my 
travels  and  adventures  that  I  ever  remember 
losing  my  self-control.  The  trip  through  the 
Holy  Land  was  one  long  disillusion.  The 
Turkish  soldiers  protecting  the  Holy  Sepulchre 
against  the  quarrels  of  the  Greeks,  Armenians 
and  Catholics,  the  impostures  of  the  so-called 
Holy  Places,  the  beggars,  the  lepers,  the  dirty 
pilgrims,  the  terrible  roar,  the  wretched  ruins, 
the  impossibility  of  enjoying  any  spot  about 
Jerusalem  in  the  peace  one  longs  for,  sanctified 
as  it  is  by  religious  associations,  made  my 
visit  to  Jerusalem  a  source  of  deep  regret. 


THE  HOLY  LAND  183 

Nazareth  and  Mount  Carmel  were  more 
satisfactory,  the  hillsides  untouched  since 
our  Saviour  and  his  disciples  wandered  over 
them.  The  good  monks  at  Mount  Carmel 
offered  us  the  hospitality  which  they  have  ex- 
tended to  strangers  ever  since  the  days  of  His 
Crusaders;  and  it  was  here,  on  these  hills,  that 
sweet  Alice  Oliphant  was  carried  to  her  last 
home  on  the  shoulders  of  the  simple  people  who 
adored  her.  The  thrilling  story  of  her  life  has 
been  told  by  an  abler  pen  than  mine,  but  I 
cannot  refrain  from  giving  my  testimony  to 
the  charms  of  one  of  the  most  interesting 
women  I  ever  met,  so  gentle,  exquisite  and 
refined,  reared  by  a  remarkable  mother  hi  the 
highest  circles  of  English  life. 

When  I  first  knew  Mrs.  Oliphant  she  had 
relinquished  all  to  follow  the  fortunes  of  her 
extraordinary  husband,  Laurence  Oliphant. 
He  took  her  to  Brockton,  a  community  in 
western  New  York,  where  his  mother,  Lady 
Oliphant,  had  preceded  them.  They  attrib- 
uted to  Harris,  the  head  of  the  community, 
supernatural  powers,  and  under  his  direction, 
Lady  Oliphant,  Laurence  and  Alice  went 
through  a  sort  of  ascetic  probation  in  order 
to  fit  themselves,  as  they  thought,  for  the 
better  uplifting  of  humanity,  enduring  hard- 


184  RECOLLECTIONS 

ships  of  all  sorts,  and  doing  menial  work. 
Finally  their  eyes  were  opened  as  to  the 
personal  character  of  Mr.  Harris  and  they 
left  him  and  founded,  as  I  have  said,  a  settle- 
ment of  their  own  in  Haifa,  in  Syria,  where  the 
loving  and  beloved  Alice  Oliphant  passed  away. 


XII 

SOUTHERN  TRIP 
OCTOBER,  1895 

IT  was  during  the  first  year  of  the  Harrison 
administration,  while  I  was  visiting  Vice- 
President  and  Mrs.  Morton  at  their  beautiful 
country  place  on  the  Hudson,  that  I  renewed 
my  acquaintance  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Morris 
K.  Jesup.  In  the  course  of  conversation, 
Mrs.  Jesup  asked  me  to  make  her  a  visit  at 
Bar  Harbor.  I  accepted,  and  this  apparently 
slight  event  brought  a  new  and  great  interest 
into  my  life. 

It  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  describe  Mount 
Desert  Island,  the  "Blessed  Island"  I  learned 
to  call  it,  for  some  of  my  happiest  hours,  during 
the  last  twenty  years,  have  been  passed  there 
in  the  hospitable  home  of  those  who  became 
my  dear  and  most  intimate  friends.  Mr. 
Jesup — alas!  he  has  gone  now — was,  in  some 
respects,  the  most  remarkable  man  I  ever  met. 
He  combined  the  practical  sterling  qualities  of 

185 


186  RECOLLECTIONS 

the  best  New  England  blood,  with  the  temper- 
ament of  the  poet  and  idealist.  I  have  never 
known  anyone  who  could  be  so  easily  moved 
to  compassion,  and  who  could  also  show  such 
fiery  indignation.  He  was  naturally  melan- 
cholic, and  yet  his  laugh,  at  times,  was  as 
boisterous  as  a  boy's.  He  loved  poetry,  music 
and  pictures;  his  house  was  the  centre  of  the 
most  gracious  hospitality,  and  all  interests, 
civic,  philanthropic  and  scientific,  found  a 
welcome  there. 

His  wife,  whom  he  married  when  they  were 
both  very  young,  was  handsome,  tall  and 
graceful,  with  a  most  charming  disposition  and 
gracious  manners,  and  their  mutual  attach- 
ment was  beautiful  to  witness.  She  was  al- 
ways his  first  thought.  I  have  often  asked  her 
if  she  realized  how  blessed  she  was  in  inspiring 
and  holding,  for  fifty  years,  an  affection  so 
absolute  and  devoted.  He  showed  his  con- 
fidence in  her  ability  by  leaving  her  the  abso- 
lute control  of  his  large  fortune,  and  she  shows 
that  she  deserved  the  trust,  for  she  is  ad- 
ministering it  wisely. 

It  is  to  this  delightful  couple  that  I  owe 
very  many  happy  summers  in  Bar  Harbor  and 
Lenox,  where  I  was  welcome  at  all  times, 
and  where  I  met  the  choicest  society  in  this 


SOUTHERN  TRIP  187 

country.  Before  Mr.  Jesup  died,  he  gave  me 
the  charming  cottage  in  Bar  Harbor,  in  which 
I  am  writing  these  lines,  because,  as  he  said, 
he  wished  me  always  to  live  near  his  wife. 
The  shadow  of  death  was  then  approaching; 
he  died  the  following  year,  in  1908.  I  shall 
never  cease  to  mourn  his  loss. 

One  of  Mr.  Jesup's  greatest  interests  was 
the  education  of  the  colored  race,  and  he  was 
Treasurer  of  the  Slater  Fund,  founded  for  that 
object.  While  talking  with  me  on  this  subject, 
during  one  of  my  visits  to  Lenox,  he  suddenly 
exclaimed:  "I  wish  you  would  take  a  trip 
South,  and  look  about  you  and  tell  me  what 
you  think  could  best  be  done  for  the  colored 
people."  The  proposition  startled  me,  and  I 
was  not  disposed  to  treat  it  seriously,  but  after 
I  went  to  bed  it  pursued  me.  I  fancied  I  heard 
my  father's  voice  telling  me  it  was  my  duty 
to  go,  for  he  always  impressed  upon  his  chil- 
dren that  they  should  never  shirk  an  oppor- 
tunity of  doing  good.  I  told  Mr.  Jesup  the 
next  morning  that  I  would  do  as  he  wished, 
if  I  could  induce  my  friend,  Mrs.  Hopkins,  of 
Washington,  to  accompany  me.  Before  I  give 
an  account  of  my  journey,  I  must  say  some- 
thing of  the  lady  I  had  chosen  of  all  others  to 
be  my  companion. 


188  RECOLLECTIONS 

Charlotte  Everett  Hopkins  is  such  an  inter- 
esting character  that  I  fear  I  shall  not  do  her 
justice  by  any  description  I  may  give  of  her. 
Her  father  was  Captain  Henry  A.  Wise,  of 
the  Navy,  a  native  of  Virginia  who  remained 
faithful  to  the  flag  during  the  Civil  War,  when 
his  loyalty  was  severely  tried  by  his  being  sent 
to  Norfolk  to  sink  the  Cumberland  and  other 
ships,  to  save  them  from  destruction  by  the 
Merrimac.  He  was  a  fine  officer,  and  a  fine 
gentleman,  in  the  old-fashioned  sense  of  the 
word.  He  was  celebrated  for  his  wit,  and  his 
wife  was  wont  to  say  that  it  was  a  great  sacri- 
fice for  her  to  go  out  to  dinner,  as  she  thus 
lost  the  society  of  the  most  agreeable  man  in 
Washington.  As  for  Mrs.  Wise,  she  was  a 
personage  who  was  never  forgotten  by  anyone 
who  had  ever  met  her.  She  was  the  daughter 
of  Edward  Everett,  was  brought  up  in  New 
England,  residing  later  in  Florence  and  Paris 
until,  in  1841,  she  went  to  England,  where  her 
father  was  Minister,  making  her  d6but  in 
society  there.  Such  was  her  wit,  her  humor, 
her  good  sense,  her  bonhomie,  her  hospitality, 
that  she  was  loved  by  everyone.  With  such 
an  inheritance,  my  friend  Charlotte  could 
hardly  fail  to  be  an  exceptional  character. 
She  married  Mr.  Archibald  Hopkins,  a  well- 


SOUTHERN  TRIP  189 

known  lawyer  of  Washington,  and,  during  the 
latter  part  of  the  Civil  War,  Colonel  of  the 
37th  Regiment  of  Massachusetts  Volunteers. 
Mr.  Hopkins  is  a  son  of  the  celebrated  author 
and  teacher,  President  Hopkins,  of  Williams 
College,  and,  for  many  years,  President  of  the 
American  Board  of  Foreign  Missions. 

I  have  always  thought  that  my  friend  Char- 
lotte is  about  the  best  company  I  know,  gifted 
with  extreme  intelligence,  the  keenest  sense  of 
humor,  and  great  dramatic  power  in  descrip- 
tion, she  is  at  the  same  time  deeply  sympa- 
thetic with  all  forms  of  suffering,  and  self- 
sacrificing  to  an  extent  I  have  never  seen 
equalled;  in  fact,  I  often  tell  her  that  "her 
philanthropy  is  almost  a  vice."  She  has  been 
foremost  in  all  the  charitable  enterprises  in 
Washington,  and  has  such  a  gift  in  addressing 
an  audience  that  she  is  sought  for  on  many 
occasions.  Of  course,  with  such  a  nature,  the 
cause  of  the  negro  was  sure  to  appeal,  espe- 
cially as  she  and  her  husband  had  been  friends 
of  General  Armstrong,  the  founder  of  Hamp- 
ton, so  she  cordially  accepted  my  invitation 
to  accompany  me  on  my  southern  trip. 

We  started  on  our  journey  sixteen  years 
ago,  October  1,  1895.  Mr.  Jesup  had  charged 
us  not  to  go  as  missionaries,  but  to  take  our 


190  RECOLLECTIONS 

smart  clothes,  and  letters  of  introduction  to 
the  best  people,  as  he  wished  us  to  get  at  their 
views  as  well  as  that  of  others,  in  regard  to 
the  negro  question.  We  were  also  to  see  the 
negroes  of  all  classes  and  judge  of  the  con- 
ditions of  rural  life,  and  to  visit  not  only  Slater 
Fund  schools  but  others  as  well.  It  was  a 
large  order,  but  we  were  full  of  enthusiasm 
and  not  afraid.  The  result  showed  that  we 
needed  to  be  both  fearless  and  enthusiastic. 
So,  provided  with  letters  to  the  schools  and 
to  "the  first  families,"  we  started  for  Hamp- 
ton, where  we  were  to  get  our  "  carte  du  pays." 
It  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  describe  Hamp- 
ton, the  model  negro  industrial  school  in  the 
country,  whence  colored  teachers  have  gone 
out  through  the  whole  South,  and  where 
Booker  Washington  received  his  inspiration 
and  education.  While  we  were  there,  a  man 
who  had  fought  in  all  the  battles  on  the  Penin- 
sula under  McClellan,  drove  us  through  the 
country  and  explained  scenes  and  incidents  of 
the  various  engagements,  bringing  us  out 
finally  at  Yorktown,  where  we  saw  the  noble 
monument  erected  to  mark  the  scene  of  the 
final  act  of  the  Revolution,  when  Cornwallis 
surrendered  his  sword  to  Washington.  Every 
inch  of  that  drive  was  over  historic  ground, 


SOUTHERN   TRIP  191 

where  thousands  of  our  countrymen  had  shed 
their  blood  in  the  cause  of  liberty.  From  there 
we  crossed  the  bay  to  Norfolk,  escorted  by 
Captain  Moton,  a  teacher  at  Hampton,  who 
told  us  that  his  ancestor  was  an  African  prince 
who,  while  bringing  some  of  his  own  subjects 
to  a  slaver,  was  detained  on  board  the  vessel 
until  after  she  got  to  sea,  and  was  sold  with 
his  people.  Moton  is  the  military  commander 
of  the  scholars  at  Hampton,  a  strict  disci- 
plinarian, a  remarkable  speaker  and  one  of 
the  leaders  of  his  race. 

We  stopped  in  Norfolk  one  night  only,  as 
we  were  anxious  to  reach  Lawrenceville,  the 
first  stage  of  our  journey.  We  were  told  there 
were  two  hotels  in  Lawrenceville,  and  we  chose 
the  one  whose  name  sounded  the  more  at- 
tractive. We  found  a  rather  large,  dilapidated 
two-story  house,  with  an  addition  extending 
from  the  main  building,  and  it  was  to  two 
rooms  in  this  annex  that  our  host,  a  tall, 
lanky,  unkempt,  shabbily-dressed  man,  con- 
ducted us.  While  Mrs.  Hopkins,  who  had 
already  assumed  the  position  of  room  investi- 
gator, had  enlisted  the  services  of  a  bedraggled 
looking  negress  with  broom  and  pail,  I  entered 
into  conversation  with  our  host,  who  seated 
himself  in  a  social  attitude  on  the  rail  of  the 


192  RECOLLECTIONS 

veranda.  I  inquired  about  a  sinister-looking 
building  across  the  street.  "Oh!  that's  the 
jail  we  lock  the  niggers  in  at  night,  and  work 
them  during  the  day."  "Are  they  securely 
locked  up  and  watched  during  the  night?"  I 
inquired,  for  they  seemed  to  me  dangerously 
near.  "Oh!  they  try  to  break  out  now  and 
then ;  there  ain't  mote  than  half  a  dozen  there 
now."  Mrs.  Hopkins,  who  overheard  the  con- 
versation, commenced  to  examine  the  locks  of 
our  doors,  and  whispered:  "There  is  not  even 
a  latch  that  will  hold." 

I  next  inquired  about  a  colored  school  in  the 
neighborhood  we  had  come  t?  see,  kept  by 
Archdeacon  Russell.  "Oh,  yes,"  he  replied, 
"it's  a  good  school;  whenever  I  want  a  job 
done  I  send*  to  Russell  and  his  boys  come  and 
do  it.  Russell  is  a  first-rate  nigger,  but  then  his 
father  was  a  high-toned  southern  gentleman." 

We  were  then  called  to  supper  by  a  refined, 
delicate  young  woman  of  a  pure  English  type, 
looking  worn  out  with  hard  work  and  poor 
food,  who  proved  to  be  our  landlady.  We  sat 
down  to  table  with  some  rough-looking  but 
good-natured  men  who,  we  learned  by  their 
conversation,  were  drummers — a  class  we  met 
frequently  afterwards,  and  found  at  times  very 
amusing. 


SOUTHERN  TRIP  193 

Archdeacon  Russell's  school,  in  Virginia, 
was  the  first  among  the  many  which  have 
been  founded  after  the  example  of  Hampton 
through  the  South,  and  which  have  done  good 
service  in  the  education  of  the  colored  race. 
I  learned  there,  to  my  surprise,  that  all  the 
scholars  paid  for  their  board  and  clothing,  and 
judging  from  the  good  trunks  outside  their 
doors,  the  latter  seemed  ample.  The  parents 
of  these  girls  and  boys  were  evidently  indus- 
trious people  who  were  anxious  for  the  educa- 
tion of  their  children.  We  attended  the  classes 
and  the  lessons  seemed  well  learned,  judging 
by  the  prompt  and  intelligent  answers.  The 
school  seemed  not  only  admirably  conducted 
but  financially  strong. 

We  passed  through  the  dreaded  perils  of  the 
night  safely,  and  at  6  A.  M.  were  in  the  dining 
room  for  breakfast.  As  for  the  breakfast — it 
was  our  first  experience  of  southern  hotel  cook- 
ing. Well !  I  made  up  my  mind  then  that  cook- 
ing schools  were  of  the  first  importance  in  the 
South.  We  next  proceeded  to  the  town  of  Em- 
poria,  more  dilapidated  and  broken  down,  if 
possible,  than  Lawrenceville.  The  white  men 
were  sitting  on  the  fences  in  the  sun,  rather 
silent,  chewing  tobacco;  the  whole  place 
seemed  asleep,  buried  in  dirt  and  dust,  and 


194  RECOLLECTIONS 

piles  of  old  tomato  cans  filled  the  gutters.  I 
tried  to  do  a  little  missionary  work  for  the 
Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Ani- 
mals by  remonstrating  with  the  proprietor  of 
a  so-called  livery  stable  on  his  neglect  of  a 
splendid  donkey,  of  the  fine  Sardinian  breed, 
covered  with  filth  and  vermin.  I  could  not 
convince  him  that  he  was  not  only  ruining  the 
animal,  but  his  own  interests  as  well. 

So  far  we  had  been  more  impressed  with  the 
degraded  condition  of  the  whites  than  of  the 
blacks  in  these  small  towns.  Whatever  work 
was  done,  was  done  by  the  negroes,  while  the 
whites  were  idle,  dirty  and  offensive  in  ap- 
pearance. The  fences  were  broken  down,  the 
houses  dilapidated,  piles  of  refuse  filled  the 
streets;  and  as  for  gardens,  or  any  kind  of  culti- 
vation, they  did  not  exist.  All  these  conditions 
in  that  lovely  climate  where,  in  October,  there 
had  as  yet  been  no  frost,  and  nature  seemed 
only  waiting  for  the  hand  of  man  to  bestow  her 
bounties  upon  him.  As  yet  the  only  white 
woman  we  had  seen  was  the  sad-looking  land- 
lady at  Lawrenceville. 

At  Emporia  we  took  the  train  for  Kittrell, 
North  Carolina,  where  there  was  a  good  sum- 
mer hotel,  we  had  been  told,  and  where  we 
could  pass  Sunday  and  visit  Mr.  Hawkins' 


SOUTHERN  TRIP  195 

school  (of  the  American  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church),  considered  quite  a  model.  The  train 
went  along  in  a  leisurely  way,  and,  after  about 
an  hour's  trip  in  company  with  our  friends  the 
drummers,  who  could  not  conceal  their  curi- 
osity about  us,  we  found  ourselves  on  the  plat- 
form of  the  station  at  Kittrell.  Mrs.  Hopkins 
called  a  boy  who  was  standing  by  to  take  our 
luggage  to  the  hotel.  "Hotel  burned  down 
last  week,  marm."  As  we  had  been  told  that 
there  would  be  no  train  till  Monday  morning, 
she  accosted  a  good-looking  colored  man  stand- 
ing near  and  asked  him  where  we  could  find 
lodgings  in  the  town,  adding  that  we  had 
come  to  see  Mr.  Hawkins'  school. 

"I  am  Mr.  Hawkins,  madam;  there  is  no 
town  here  and  no  other  hotel,  but  I  shall  be 
very  glad  if  you  will  accept  my  hospitality." 

I  was  standing  at  a  little  distance  watching 
the  colloquy.  Mrs.  Hopkins  came  to  me  with 
an  amused  look  in  her  face,  but  command  in 
her  voice,  and  said:  "There  is  nothing  for  us 
but  the  open  fields  or  Mr.  Hawkins'  house 
until  Monday  morning." 

I  bowed,  and  we  were  soon  in  Mr.  Hawkins' 
wagon  driving  to  his  house,  situated  in  a  beau- 
tiful grove  of  oaks  and  pines  with  several  large 
school  buildings  near  by.  The  house  was  the 


19«  RECOLLECTIONS 

ordinary  two-story  village  house,  with  a  veran- 
da. As  we  approached,  the  door  was  opened 
by  a  tall,  fine-looking  mulatto  woman,  to  whom 
Mr.  Hawkins  said:  "My  dear,  these  ladies 
have  kindly  consented  to  pass  Sunday  with 


us." 


Without  any  expression  of  surprise,  she  said, 
with  a  smile :  "  Won't  you  walk  in,  ladies?  "  and 
led  us  into  a  parlor  comfortably  and  tastefully 
furnished,  a  harmonium  on  one  side,  a  book- 
case on  the  other,  and  a  bright  fire  burning  in 
the  fire-place.  It  was  the  sort  of  pleasant 
room  one  might  find  in  any  New  England 
village.  After  sitting  a  few  minutes,  Mrs. 
Hawkins  suggested  that,  as  it  was  Saturday 
and  the  schools  closed  early,  it  might  be  well 
if  we  went  to  see  them  at  once.  We  recog- 
nized the  housekeeper's  desire  to  dispose  of 
us  for  a  while,  until  she  could  make  some 
arrangements  for  her  unexpected  guests,  so  we 
cordially  expressed  our  willingness  to  go  to  see 
the  schools.  We  found  them  modelled  after 
Hampton,  the  arrangements  of  the  simplest 
kind,  but  very  practical  and  scrupulously  neat. 
'Twas  refreshing  to  see  such  neatness  after  our 
recent  experiences.  All  the  work  was  done  by 
the  scholars:  the  boys  working  on  the  farm 
and  in  the  stable,  caring  for  the  cattle,  poultry 


SOUTHERN  TRIP  107 

and  pigs,  while  the  girls  did  the  housework. 
They  all  looked  healthy  and  happy. 

In  due  time  we  returned  to  the  house  to  find 
our  hostess  ready  to  receive  us;  she  ushered  us 
into  a  bedroom  furnished  with  every  comfort, 
even  to  the  luxury  of  cologne  in  pretty  bottles, 
the  best  of  scented  soap,  an  abundance  of 
towels,  and  a  can  of  hot  water  by  the  side  of 
the  fire  which  was  crackling  on  the  brass 
andirons.  At  the  same  time  there  was  an 
atmosphere  of  occupancy  which  convinced  us 
that  it  was  Mrs.  Hawkins'  bedroom  hastily 
arranged.  Shortly  supper  was  announced  and 
we  went  into  the  parlor,  to  be  introduced  to 
Mrs.  Hawkins'  father  and  mother  from  North 
Dakota.  We  all  proceeded  to  the  dining  room, 
and  found  a  good,  well-cooked  meal  on  the 
table,  and  a  pretty  tea  equipage  in  front  of 
Mrs.  Hawkins.  Our  hosts  seemed  perfectly 
unconscious  that  they  were  doing  anything 
unusual  in  entertaining  white  people,  and  our 
only  desire  was  to  be  as  simple  and  uncon- 
scious as  they  were.  After  a  while  the  feeling 
of  awkwardness  on  our  part  wore  off,  and  we 
found  ourselves  talking  with  them  as  if  they 
were  old  acquaintances.  As  for  Mrs.  Hopkins, 
she  rose  to  the  occasion  in  her  own  inimitable 
manner.  'Twas  a  scene  I  shall  never  forget. 


198  KECOLLECTIONS 

Mrs.  Hawkins'  father  was  a  mulatto,  from 
Martinique,  with  evidently  a  strong  strain 
of  French  blood,  tall  and  handsome;  her 
mother  was  half  Mexican,  and  looked  Spanish; 
they  were  both  free  born,  and  had  gone  to 
North  Dakota  to  settle,  as  they  said,  away 
from  the  traditions  of  slavery.  There  they 
had  brought  up  their  daughter,  except  when 
she  went  to  the  Conservatory  of  Music  in 
Boston;  and  I  discovered  afterwards  that  she 
sang  like  a  bird. 

After  supper  we  all  sat  together  around  the 
fire,  till  late  into  the  night,  and  they  told  us 
their  histories,  and  their  hopes  and  fears  for 
the  future.  They  showed  pride  and  self- 
respect.  Mrs.  Hawkins  was  the  only  one  who 
seemed  to  feel  any  bitterness;  she  had  evi- 
dently suffered  in  Boston,  and  was  less  hope- 
ful for  her  race  than  the  rest.  Mr.  Hawkins, 
who  had  a  most  attractive  personality,  ex- 
pressed an  earnest  conviction  that  his  people 
were  on  the  right  road  to  becoming  good  citi- 
zens; "only  give  us  time,"  he  exclaimed.  We 
touched  on  the  delicate  question  of  social 
equality.  "We  don't  want  it,"  they  all  said, 
"if  the  white  men  would  only  leave  our  girls 
alone.  Let  us  revert  to  our  original  color;  let 
the  men  grow  strong  and  the  women  virtuous, 


SOUTHERN  TRIP  199 

then  give  us  education,  and  we  can  hold  our 
own.  Hampton  statistics  show  that  the  pure 
blacks  make  as  intelligent  men  and  women  as 
those  of  mixed  race."  It  was  curious  to  sit 
there  and  hear  these  people,  all  mulattoes, 
defend  the  rights  of  the  pure-blooded  negro, 
and  rank  themselves  with  them  rather  than 
with  the  race  to  which  their  grandfathers  or 
fathers  had  belonged.  I  never  met  anyone 
afterwards  so  strong  in  the  expression  of  these 
views;  but  everywhere  we  encountered  the 
deep  feeling,  still  existent,  of  resentment 
against  that  phase  of  the  slavery  system  which 
permitted  the  separation  of  families,  the  sale 
of  husbands  from  wives,  the  non-recognition 
of  the  marriage  tie  and  the  consequent  im- 
morality. 

The  next  morning  we  attended  a  service 
called  " devotion."  As  Mr.  Hawkins  was  not 
a  clergyman,  he  made  that  distinction  between 
the  church  service  and  his.  We  found  all  the 
boys  and  girls  assembled  when  we  went  in, 
and  Mrs.  Hopkins  and  I  were  given  seats  on 
the  platform.  I  was  much  interested  in  watch- 
ing the  expression  of  the  dark  shining  faces. 
After  prayer,  reading  of  the  Bible  and  singing, 
Mr.  Hawkins  turned  to  me  and  said:  "Mrs. 
Hobson,  will  you  address  the  school?"  I  was 


200  RECOLLECTIONS 

startled  by  the  sudden  suggestion,  having  had 
no  experience  in  public  speaking  and  begged 
him  to  excuse  me.  "Oh,  but  they  will  be  so 
disappointed,"  he  whispered. 

As  he  spoke,  my  eyes  rested  on  a  large  map 
of  the  Holy  Land.  I  had  been  there  recently, 
and  the  outlines  were  so  familiar  that  I  ex- 
claimed: "Children,  would  you  like  to  hear 
something  about  the  Holy  Land?"  All  hands 
went  up,  and  I  commenced  at  Jaffa  and  then 
led  them  through  the  country.  The  sight  of 
their  upturned  faces  and  their  responsive  ex- 
pression, as  I  described  the  incidents  of  the 
journey  in  a  country  they  were  familiar  with 
through  the  Bible,  so  inspired  me  that  I 
really  enjoyed  it,  and  realized,  for  the  first 
time,  the  influence  an  audience  must  have  on 
a  speaker.  When  I  had  finished,  Mrs.  Hopkins 
gave  them  an  interesting  account  of  General 
Armstrong's  career.  Lincoln  and  Armstrong 
are  the  two  heroes  of  the  colored  race,  and  their 
pictures  hang  in  every  school. 

On  our  return  to  the  house,  we  found  the 
party  had  been  increased  by  the  arrival  of 
Mr.  Hawkins'  father  and  mother.  A  sad- 
looking,  broken-down  old  couple,  who  had 
been  slaves  on  the  very  land  now  owned  by 
their  son,  and  where  he  had  built  his  cottage 


SOUTHERN   TRIP  201 

and  his  schools.  The  contrast  between  the 
free-born  negroes  from  North  Dakota  and  the 
slaves  of  the  Virginia  plantation  told  the  story 
of  freedom  and  slavery  with  a  pathos  no  words 
can  describe.  Mrs.  Hawkins'  parents  showed 
no  consciousness  of  inferiority — they  were 
simply  natural — but  the  ex-slaves  were  shy  and 
timid.  After  dinner,  when  they  seemed  dis- 
turbed by  our  presence,  I  lured  the  old  woman 
to  the  sunny  side  of  the  veranda  and  explained 
to  her  the  object  of  our  visit,  and  drew  her  out 
about  herself  and  the  past.  She  had  been  born 
on  the  land  where  we  sat ;  she  had  had  thirteen 
children,  of  whom  Mr.  Hawkins,  the  youngest, 
was  the  only  one  left.  The  rest,  she  said,  had 
died  or  had  been  sold  away.  She  never  had 
any  chance  to  take  care  of  her  children  as,  be- 
ing a  field  hand,  she  had  to  work,  and  she 
showed  me  the  deep  welts  in  her  legs  from  the 
lash.  She  was  not  bitter;  she  was  only  sad,  a 
broken-down  old  woman,  whose  only  source  of 
happiness  now  was  in  her  son,  and  he  fully 
deserved  the  loving  pride  she  felt  for  him. 
Her  husband  said  little;  he  too  looked  sad  and 
worn  out.  So  far  we  had  not  encountered  the 
amusing,  humorous  characters  we  had  read  of 
in  the  southern  books.  Our  friends  all  took 
life  much  too  seriously  to  joke. 


202  RECOLLECTIONS 

In  answer  to  our  inquiries,  we  were  told  that 
the  boys  and  girls  in  the  schools  found  plenty 
of  occupation  as  soon  as  they  left,  the  boys  in 
practising  the  trades  they  had  learned;  and 
the  girls  married  the  boys,  and  their  training 
told  in  their  homes.  They  also  try  to  buy 
land,  and  in  the  vicinity  we  saw  many  acres 
under  the  cultivation  of  Mr.  Hawkins'  boys. 

We  left  on  Monday  morning,  deeply  im- 
pressed with  our  experience  of  the  life  and 
struggles  of  the  best  class  of  negroes  to  uplift 
and  help  their  race.  We  could  not  have  had  a 
better  opportunity  to  obtain  the  information 
we  sought — the  real  condition  of  the  people, 
their  attitude  towards  the  whites,  their  own 
views  of  their  present  position,  and  their 
hopes  for  the  future.  This  experience  was  of 
great  use  to  us  in  forming  our  subsequent 
conclusions. 

I  shall  not  enter  into  a  minute  detail  of  all 
the  places  we  visited,  but  simply  give  some 
anecdotes  significant  of  the  conditions  we  met, 
and  the  incidents  which  served  to  enliven  our 
trip.  It  was  very  hard  travelling,  through  a 
country  not  yet  recovered  from  the  ravages  of 
the  war,  and  which  had  not  then  felt  the  touch 
of  prosperity  which  has  since  reached  it. 

Our  next  stopping  place  was  Raleigh,  where 


SOUTHERN  TRIP  203 

I  had  some  relatives  I  had  never  seen ;  but  with 
true  southern  hospitality  I  had  only  to  call  and 
send  in  my  name  to  be  received  most  cordially 
as  "Cousin  Elizabeth."  We  soon  found  they 
would  have  no  sympathy  with  the  object  of 
our  trip.  They  spoke  of  the  negroes  en  masse 
as  dirty,  lazy,  insubordinate,  and  hopeless, 
"so  different  from  those  of  former  days  when 
they  made  the  best  servants  in  the  world." 

My  pretty  young  cousin  told  of  her  recent 
experience  at  Harvard,  where  she  went  to  see 
her  brother  graduate. 

"Think  of  it,"  she  exclaimed,  "negroes  are 
received  in  the  classes  there.  I  went  to  the 
ball  and  there  I  saw  a  negro  dressed  like  a 
gentleman.  Of  course  I  left  immediately." 

From  Raleigh  we  went  to  Charlotte. 
While  there  we  inquired  about  a  Uni- 
versity we  had  been  asked  by  a  friend  in 
New  York  to  investigate.  A  short  drive 
brought  us  to  a  shabby  old  house,  the  door  of 
which  was  opened  by  a  gray-haired  negro,  in 
a  long,  gray  Confederate  army  coat.  He 
proved  to  be  the  President  of  the  University. 
He  asked  us  into  a  room,  filled  with  har- 
moniums of  different  sizes,  and  a  large  table 
in  the  centre  was  piled  high  with  Bibles.  The 
President  told  us  that  the  classes  were  hardly 


204  RECOLLECTIONS 

formed  yet  for  the  winter  course,  but  acknowl- 
edged that  one  was  then  in  session.  We  urged 
the  privilege  so  strongly  to  be  allowed  to  see 
the  scholars  that,  with  evident  reluctance,  he 
led  us  into  the  yard,  thence  into  a  barn,  where 
on  some  boards  resting  on  boxes,  about  twenty 
bare-footed  children  were  being  taught  the 
primer  by  the  President's  wife,  and  that  was 
the  "  University  "  to  which  my  friend  and  her 
mother  had  been  contributing  for  many  years. 
I  need  hardly  say  that  the  contributions 
ceased  after  our  report. 

From  Charlotte  we  drove  through  cotton 
fields  to  Columbia,  South  Carolina,  where 
we  had  a  most  interesting  and  amusing  ex- 
perience. With  difficulty,  we  obtained  one 
room  in  the  large  old-fashioned  hotel,  the 
place  being  crowded  with  men  who,  as  we 
learned  later,  had  come  from  all  parts  of  the 
State  to  attend  the  Constitutional  Conven- 
tion. The  condition  of  the  room  assigned 
to  us  was  so  unattractive,  indeed  I  may  say 
disgusting,  that  Mrs.  Hopkins  proposed  to  go 
and  deliver  a  letter  of  introduction  we  had  to 
a  lady  from  the  North,  in  the  hope  that  she 
might  offer  us  a  night's  lodging.  Meanwhile, 
I  was  to  remain  at  the  hotel,  keep  our  room 
and  guard  our  luggage.  My  curiosity  led  me 


SOUTHERN  TRIP  205 

into  the  hall  to  look  at  the  crowd,  composed  of 
stalwart,  shabbily-dressed  men,  all  of  whom 
had  a  certain  air  of  breeding  and  a  look  of 
command.  A  man  with  one  arm  stood  near 
me  and,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  was  vigor- 
ously chewing  tobacco,  he  had  such  a  pleasant, 
friendly  expression,  that  I  could  not  resist  the 
temptation  to  accost  him  and  inquire  the  busi- 
ness of  the  great  crowd.  He  told  me  they 
were  members  of  the  Constitutional  Conven- 
tion, and  then  he  asked  me,  "If  I  were  one  of 
the  suffrage  ladies?  " 

"Oh!  no,"  I  replied,  "but  I  would  like  very 
much  to  attend  one  of  your  meetings." 

"  Well, "  said  he,  "  to-night  it  will  be  interest- 
ing, because  we  are  going  to  settle  the  nigger 
question,  whether  they  shall  have  the  vote  or 
not.  I  will  get  you  a  seat  if  you  are  at  the  door 
at  eight  o'clock." 

Just  then  Mrs.  Hopkins  appeared,  unable 
to  disguise  her  astonishment  at  seeing  me,  as 
she  said,  "flirting  with  that  disreputable  look- 
ing man."  I  whispered  that  he  was  a  southern 
Colonel,  and  most  civil  and  gallant,  and  that 
I  was  certainly  going  to  the  Convention  under 
his  wing.  Mrs.  Hopkins  brought  the  good 
news  that  the  lady  from  the  North  invited  us 
most  cordially  to  stop  with  her ;  so,  after  receiv- 


206  RECOLLECTIONS 

ing  my  Colonel's  card,  I  bade  him  good-bye 
until  the  evening,  and  accompanied  Mrs.  Hop- 
kins to  the  house  of  Mrs.  B .  On  showing 

the  card  to  her  husband,  he  said:  "You  are  in 
luck,  the  Colonel  is  one  of  the  most  prominent 
men  in  the  Convention.  Go  by  all  means ;  I  will 
take  you  to  the  door."  We  found  that  Mr. 

B had  been  sent  to  the  South  during  the 

Reconstruction  period;  I  fancy  the  Southerners 
would  have  called  him  a  "  carpet-bagger,"  but 
he  was  a  well-bred,  intelligent  man,  occupying 
the  difficult  position  of  a  Republican  official 
in  a  southern  state.  His  wife  was  much  inter- 
ested in  the  negro  conditions,  especially  in  the 
mulatto  girls,  and  told  us  many  anecdotes  of 
the  difficulties  of  their  lives.  The  sum  of  her 
conclusions  was  that  they  should  have  an  edu- 
cation which  would  teach  them  thrift  and  that 
labor  was  honorable,  the  influence  of  slavery 
having  been  the  reverse,  as  its  stigma  had 
cast  a  shadow  over  all  industry. 

At  eight  o'clock  we  were  at  the  door  of  the 
State  House,  a  fine  granite  building,  with  balls 
of  Sherman's  artillery  firmly  imbedded  in  its 
walls.  My  friend,  the  Colonel,  who  was  wait- 
ing for  us,  led  us  into  the  hall  and  gave  us  a 
seat  in  the  midst  of  a  group  of  other  Colonels, 
to  whom  we  were  introduced,  I  found  the 


SOUTHERN  TRIP  207 

subject  under  discussion  was  negro  suffrage, 
and  after  listening  to  several  fiery  speeches,  I 
ventured  to  suggest  to  my  neighbors  that  the 
question  might  be  settled  by  the  test  of 
illiteracy. 

"But  that  would  disfranchise  15,000  whites 
who  fought  for  the  Confederacy,"  exclaimed 
one  of  the  Colonels. 

"But,  after  all,"  I  replied,  "you  white 
men  can  always  maintain  control  over  the 
negroes." 

"Do  you  see  that  group  over  there?"  he 
replied,  pointing  to  several  negroes  sitting 
together.  "Those  men  are  natural  orators; 
they  can  lead  their  people  where  they  choose. 
No,  we  must  find  a  way  to  disfranchise  them, 
or  they  will  rule  us." 

We  waited  some  time  in  the  hope  of  hearing 
the  colored  orators,  but  they  made  no  attempt 
to  speak,  merely  sat  calmly  listening  to  abuse 
by  their  opponents,  biding  their  time.  Some 
years  after,  when  I  heard  Booker  Washington 
speak,  I  recalled  that  scene  in  the  Conven- 
tion and  I  thought  they  had  not  waited  in 
vain.  Our  friend,  the  Colonel,  told  us  after- 
wards that  one  of  those  negroes  had  been  so 
successful  in  business,  that  he  had  bought  his 
old  master's  plantation,  and  gave  his  former 


208  RECOLLECTIONS 

mistress  the  use  of  the  house  and  grounds 
which  were  her  only  means  of  support. 

We  left  Columbia  the  next  day  for  Charles- 
ton, feeling  that  we  had  learned  a  great  deal 
from  our  friends,  the  Colonel  and  our  hosts, 
on  both  sides  of  the  great  question. 

We  went  to  the  best  hotel  in  Charleston, 
delivered  our  letters  of  introduction  to  the 
first  families,  and  awaited  the  result.  We  had 
been  told  at  Hampton  to  go  to  a  certain  drug 
store,  kept  by  a  negro,  who  would  put  us  in 
the  way  of  seeing  the  leading  negroes  of  the 
city.  This  we  also  did,  and  made  an  appoint- 
ment with  the  druggist  for  the  following  even- 
ing. On  our  return  to  the  hotel  we  found 
cards  of  invitation  to  dinner  and  supper,  in 
response  to  our  letters  of  introduction. 

The  first  house  we  visited  was  on  the  beau- 
tiful esplanade  by  the  sea,  and  was  a  most 
attractive  residence,  occupied  by  charming 
people,  who  gave  us  a  most  cordial  welcome. 
I  never  saw  Mrs.  Hopkins  more  brilliant  than 
she  was  that  evening,  and  the  whole  party 
listened  with  delight  to  her  anecdotes  and 
witty  repartee.  I  overheard  one  of  the  guests 
whisper  to  our  hostess:  "What  brings  them 
here?  "  "  Niggers ! "  she  replied. 

So  we  were  found  out;  I  suppose  through 


SOUTHERN  TRIP  209 

some  words  in  our  letters  of  introduction,  but 
nevertheless  they  were  mystified;  the  anti- 
slavery  ladies  and  missionary  teachers  they 
had  seen  did  not  wear  velvet  and  point-lace, 
and  did  not  put  up  at  the  best  hotel.  Finally, 
curiosity  impelled  them  to  lead  up  to  the  sub- 
ject. We  said  little  or  nothing,  as  we  desired 
to  hear  their  point  of  view  without  argu- 
ment. They  regarded  the  free  negro  as  hope- 
less ;  he  would  never  work  without  the  stimulus 
of  the  lash,  and  all  the  money  spent  by  the 
North  on  his  education  was  so  much  thrown 
away.  Everywhere  we  heard  the  same  senti- 
ments, and  we  did  not  meet  a  single  person  in 
that  society  who  had  taken  the  trouble  to 
investigate  the  question  in  order  to  verify  his 
opinion.  We  visited  other  aristocratic  families 
on  the  esplanade,  who  showed  us  their  beau- 
tiful family  relics,  and  who  charmed  us  by 
their  genial  manners  and  conversation.  The 
men  were  handsome  and  agreeable,  with 
manners  like  Englishmen  of  the  early  Vic- 
torian days.  Those  Charleston  men  were  of 
a  different  type  from  the  Columbia  Colonels. 
They  were  of  the  governing  class  of  the  days 
before  the  Civil  War;  and,  disdaining  to  touch 
politics  now,  they  stand  aloof,  like  the 
Frenchmen  of  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain— 


210  RECOLLECTIONS 

and  Tillman  represents  South  Carolina  in 
Congress! 

The  next  morning  we  asked  the  head  waiter, 
a  most  portly  and  dignified  colored  man,  to 
get  us  a  carriage,  and  were  much  surprised  at 
the  smart  victoria  and  liveried  coachman 
which  awaited  us,  and  remarking  upon  it  to 
him:  " Nothing  is  too  good  for  such  ladies 
as  you,"  he  said,  with  a  profound  bow; 
and  then  we  saw  that  he  too  had  found  us 
out. 

Upon  the  druggist's  invitation,  we  went  to  a 
meeting  of  negroes  in  a  church.  Among  them 
were  clergymen  of  different  denominations, 
cotton-factors,  doctors,  lawyers,  and  trades- 
men. They  all  spoke  hopefully  of  their  pros- 
pects, were  not  discouraged,  and  were  con- 
vinced they  were  working  their  way  up  to  the 
light.  One  of  them  said:  "The  doctors  are 
very  anxious  to  have  a  hospital  of  their  own, 
for  although  colored  patients  are  received  at 
the  hospitals,  colored  doctors  are  not  allowed 
to  attend  them."  These  doctors  all  held 
diplomas  from  Northern  colleges.*  We  were 
much  impressed  with  the  intelligence  of  those 

*  When,  later,  the  much-wished-for  colored  hospital  had  been 
established,  some  of  the  colored  people  in  Washington,  to  whom 
we  spoke  of  it,  wished  so  much  to  help  that,  for  two  years,  they 
paid  the  interest  of  the  mortgage  on  the  hospital. 


SOUTHERN  TRIP  211 

men,  and  their  calmness  in  discussing  their  dif- 
ficulties and  the  opposition  they  encountered. 
We  left  the  meeting  in  a  pouring  rain  for  the 
station.  The  driver  gave  his  horses  in  charge 
of  a  friend  and  insisted  upon  carrying  our  bags 
and  seeing  us  safely  on  the  train.  He  said,  as 
he  gave  us  in  charge  of  the  Pullman  porter: 
"John,  take  good  care  of  these  ladies,  for  they 
are  angels."  John  had  never  heard  of  the  dis- 
pute in  New  York  when  the  clergy  had  decided 
that  angels  were  men,  not  women. 

The  South !  how  much  that  one  word  repre- 
sents of  heroism  and  patriotism,  pride  and 
prejudice,  love  and  hate!  In  spite  of  all  asser- 
tions to  the  contrary,  my  intimate  acquaint- 
ance with  so  many  southern  women  forces  me 
to  assert  that  I  have  never  known  one,  old 
enough  to  have  lived  through  the  Civil  War, 
and  who  had  therefore  received  the  impress  of 
that  awful  struggle,  who  was  really  recon- 
structed. Strive  as  they  may,  the  iron  entered 
into  their  souls  then,  and  although  they  are 
now  loyal  to  the  flag,  they  can  never  forgive 
their  conquerors,  or  be  reconciled  to  the 
change.  Then  there  is  the  eternal  problem  of 
the  negro.  I  have  talked  with  my  friends  by 
the  hour,  trying  to  convince  them  that  the  only 
hope  for  the  South  was  in  the  education  of 


212  RECOLLECTIONS 

the  negro,  to  make  him  an  industrious,  self- 
respecting  citizen.  The  southern  leaders  are 
now  recognizing  this,  and  are  appropriating 
large  sums  for  that  object;  but  their  hearts  are 
not  in  it  and  I  am  convinced  that  if,  by  vote, 
they  could  dispatch  every  negro  man,  woman 
and  child  to  Africa,  they  would  do  so.  The 
negroes  are  aware  of  this  feeling,  and  one  of 
them  said  to  me:  "  We  are  Americans  as  much 
as  you  are;  our  ancestors  came  over  at  the 
same  time  and  here  we  shall  stay."  The 
racial  antipathy  is  especially  strong  among  the 
southern  women,  although  they  never  cease  to 
insist  upon  their  love  for  their  "  mammy s" 
and  the  devotion  of  their  slaves.  Their  view 
is  that  freedom  has  ruined  the  negro,  made 
him  lazy,  impertinent  and  lawless,  and  that 
education,  except  on  the  simplest  industrial 
lines,  is  fatal  to  him.  "  Of  course  they  must 
be  taught  to  work,  but  higher  education, 
never!"  When  I  argue  with  them  that  a 
race  is  worthy  of  respect  who  in  forty-five 
years  has  raised  itself  from  slavery,  with  all 
the  degradation  the  word  implies,  to  become 
owners  of  property,  managers  of  banks  of 
their  own,  and  who  are  practising  the  learned 
professions  among  their  people,  I  meet  with 
incredulity,  or  with  indignant  protests  against 


SOUTHERN  TRIP  213 

raising  such  people  "out  of  the  sphere  in  which 
God  has  placed  them!" 

Since  those  days  of  1895,  sixteen  years  ago, 
there  has  been,  I  am  happy  to  say,  a  great 
change  in  public  opinion  in  the  South  in  regard 
to  the  negro.  The  important  educational  work 
of  the  Slater  and  the  Rockefeller  Funds  has 
gained  sympathy  and  co-operation  from  the 
best  white  element  hi  the  South,  and  the 
future  is  full  of  hope. 

From  Charleston  to  Savannah,  stopping  at 
Montgomery  to  see  a  remarkably  good  school, 
in  charge  of  two  northern  ladies,  and  on  to  At- 
lanta, where  we  passed  a  most  interesting  morn- 
ing visiting  the  Spellman  Institute,  an  indus- 
trial school  for  colored  girls,  established  by  the 
Baptists,  and  chiefly  sustained  by  the  benevo- 
lence of  Mr.  Rockefeller.  I  have  never  seen 
anywhere  a  more  beautifully  conducted  insti- 
tution, managed  by  a  very  remarkable  woman 
whose  intelligence  and  character  greatly  im- 
pressed me.  Every  branch  of  domestic  science 
was  taught,  and  there  was  a  small  hospital  where 
nurses  were  trained.  I  remarked  to  the  princi- 
pal that  I  presumed  there  was  no  difficulty  in 
finding  good  places  for  her  girls  in  Atlanta.  "  I 
do  not  encourage  my  girls  to  go  into  service  in 
Atlanta,"  she  said.  "  I  want  my  girls  to  marry 


214  RECOLLECTIONS 

early  and  make  nice  homes,  and  thus  save  the 
young  men  and  themselves."  She  added  that 
the  custom  at  the  South  of  sending  the  serv- 
ants out  to  sleep  was  very  demoralizing.  The 
negro  quarters  are  generally  at  a  distance  from 
the  residence  of  the  whites  (in  fact  in  many  of 
the  towns  of  the  South  the  negroes  cannot  own 
or  rent  a  house  in  the  white  quarter),  and  the 
young  women  are  thus  exposed  to  many  temp- 
tations to  which  white  servants  are  not  liable. 
This,  she  said,  explains  why  the  southern 
ladies  complain  that  colored  women  are  lazy 
and  difficult  to  manage,  for  the  freedom  en- 
gendered by  going  home  every  night  has 
naturally  an  attraction  for  them,  as  they  are 
social  and  pleasure-loving  and  are  not  willing 
to  forego  their  nocturnal  liberty.  Of  course 
the  custom  is  subversive  of  all  household  dis- 
cipline, and  I  learned  that  after  six  o'clock  one 
could  rarely  find  a  servant  in  any  house  except 
perhaps  a  nurse,  or  an  old  woman  who  had  her 
lodging  provided.  The  conversations  we  had 
with  the  white  residents  of  Atlanta  corre- 
sponded with  those  at  Charleston,  evincing 
utter  lack  of  sympathy  with  the  colored 
people. 

From  Atlanta  we  went  to  Tuskegee,  taking 
the  New  Orleans  Express,  which  we  were  to 


SOUTHERN  TRIP  215 

leave  at  a  junction  where  Booker  Washington 
had  written  that  an  engine  with  a  car  would 
be  waiting  for  us.  Our  train  was  late,  and 
about  midnight  we  began  to  be  anxious  lest 
we  should  find  ourselves  left  on  a  platform  in 
a  raw  October  night  with  no  prospect  of 
shelter.  We  expressed  our  fears  to  the  con- 
ductor. "  Did  Washington  say  the  car  would 
be  there?"  he  asked;  " because,  if  he  did,  you 
needn't  worry,  he'll  see  to  it.  I'll  hold  up  my 
own  train  and  pass  you  over  safely."  And  so 
he  did.  After  a  trip  of  about  half  an  hour, 
when  we  seemed  to  be  climbing  a  mountain, 
we  were  bundled  into  a  big  wagon  filled  with 
negroes,  who  sang  songs  and  told  stories  for 
upwards  of  an  hour. 

When  we  finally  reached  our  destination, 
at  2  A.  M.,  thoroughly  worn  out,  Mrs.  Wash- 
ington received  us  and  took  us  to  our  room.  I 
was  grateful  to  see  a  bright  fire,  and  to  seek 
the  comfort  of  a  bed.  We  slept  the  sleep 
of  weary  travellers,  awoke  the  next  morning 
much  refreshed,  and  prepared  ourselves  to 
meet  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Washington  at  breakfast. 
As  soon  as  the  meal  was  over,  we  started  on 
our  study  of  this  remarkable  institution.  It 
was  like  being  in  the  heart  of  Africa;  there  was 
only  one  white  person  there,  a  teacher  from  the 


216  RECOLLECTIONS 

North,  a  temporary  appointment  to  teach 
some  new  industry. 

It  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  enter  into  details 
of  what  we  saw  at  that  time,  when  all  was  in 
its  infancy;  but  even  then  the  plan  was  clearly 
denned  in  the  mind  of  its  projector,  and  as  he 
told  us  of  all  he  proposed  to  do,  his  eye  would 
kindle,  and  his  wonderful  voice  would  tremble 
with  the  emotion  his  hopes  inspired.  No  one 
could  resist  the  influence  of  that  marvellous 
personality,  or  fail  to  share  his  enthusiasm. 
Every  teacher,  every  scholar  seemed  alert; 
activity,  industry,  earnestness,  filled  the  air; 
"to  work  for  our  race/'  was  the  keynote  of 
the  life  of  Tuskegee.  And,  during  the  years 
that  have  passed  since  then,  the  education  of 
those  young  men  and  women  who  have  gone 
out  into  the  world,  has  justified  the  hopes  of  its 
founder,  as  revealed  by  the  recent  census, 
absolutely  contradicting  the  pessimistic  views 
of  those  who  despair  of  the  negro  race. 

Tuskegee  is  the  child  of  Hampton,  and  the 
two  institutions  were  founded  by  two  of  the 
most  remarkable  men  whom  our  country  has 
produced  since  the  Civil  War — one  the  son  of 
a  missionary,  born  in  the  Sandwich  Islands; 
the  other  the  son  of  a  slave. 

During  all  our  investigations,  the  details  of 


SOUTHERN   TRIP  217 

which  I  need  not  recount  here,  we  had  not  yet 
reached  the  people  we  had  come  to  seek,  the 
"  low  downs  "  as  they  were  called.  On  explain- 
ing this  to  Mrs.  Washington,  she  sent  into  the 
country  and  brought  into  a  meeting  a  number 
of  old  men  and  women,  ex-slaves,  and,  under 
her  influence,  they  talked  to  us  frankly.  They 
showed  no  bitterness  towards  the  past;  they 
were  worn  out  and  tired ;  they  expected  nothing 
of  life  but  meagre  food  and  lodging  and  the 
grave,  but  they  were  full  of  hope  for  their 
descendants.  Tuskegee  had  shown  them  what 
they  could  do,  and  their  simple  faith  and  con- 
fidence in  the  future  of  their  race  moved  us 
deeply.  What  they  all  wanted  now  were 
plenty  of  public  schools  in  the  country,  where 
the  children  would  learn  not  only  to  read  and 
write  but  the  simple  industries  that  were 
taught  on  the  plantation  before  the  war,  and 
which  seemed  to  have  been  absolutely  for- 
gotten during  the  thirty  years  of  freedom.  The 
schools  at  present  are  few  and  far  between,  and 
open  only  three  or  four  months  of  the  year. 

We  felt  we  had  touched  the  great  need  at 
last — good  rural  schools  and  plenty  of  them, 
and  instruction  in  all  the  simple  arts  of  life. 
Mr.  Washington  told  us  of  a  woman,  a  Hamp- 
ton graduate,  he  had  sent  to  a  place  about 


218  RECOLLECTIONS 

twenty  miles  distant  to  open  such  a  school, 
and  advised  us  to  visit  it.  So,  after  a  three 
days'  visit  at  Tuskegee,  we  started  in  an  open 
wagon,  with  a  negro  boy  sitting  on  the  shafts 
to  drive  us,  through  the  cotton  fields  to  Mount 
Meigs. 

It  was  a  beautiful  October  day,  the  men, 
women  and  children  in  the  cotton  fields  were 
singing  as  they  worked.  It  did  not  occur  to 
us  to  be  afraid,  though  we  were  driving  through 
the  so-called  " black  belt"  and  did  not  see  a 
single  white  person  during  the  day.  At  last, 
after  a  most  interesting  drive  of  several  hours, 
we  reached  a  small  cottage  near  an  old  meeting 
house,  which  was  Mount  Meigs,  the  place  we 
had  come  to  visit.  The  teacher,  Georgia 
Washington,  a  large,  fine-looking  colored 
woman,  and  her  two  assistants  welcomed  us 
cordially  and  led  us  into  the  cottage,  which 
was  scrupulously  clean  but  bare  of  all  but  the 
simplest  necessities  of  life.  Two  beds,  two 
chairs,  some  packing  boxes  which  had  been 
made  into  tables  and  drawers,  with  a  stove  and 
some  cooking  utensils,  composed  the  sole  furni- 
ture of  the  place.  The  old  meeting  house  was 
the  schoolhousej  the  glass  was  out  of  the 
windows;  the  floors  were  unsteady,  and  the 
children's  seats  were  made  of  boards  supported 


SOUTHERN  TRIP  219 

on  barrels.  A  map  of  the  United  States,  some 
pictures  and  a  portrait  of  Lincoln  hung  on  the 
walls,  and  a  pile  of  old  school  books,  sent  by 
some  friend  from  the  North,  composed  the 
library.  To  this  struggling  attempt  at  a 
school,  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  bare- 
footed children  walked  daily  from  one  to  three 
miles,  bringing  with  them  cornmeal,  eggs  and 
chickens  to  pay  for  their  schooling  and  the 
support  of  the  teacher.  The  State  paid  the 
head  teacher  twenty  dollars  a  month  for  three 
months;  the  other  teachers  received  a  small 
stipend  from  the  North,  begged  by  Georgia 
during  the  vacations.  It  was  too  late  in  the 
afternoon  to  see  the  school,  as  the  children  had 
gone;  but  it  was  not  necessary  to  see  them 
to  see  the  school.  It  was  only  necessary  to 
look  at  the  teachers,  and  to  hear  their  cheerful, 
hopeful  voices,  to  realize  the  spirit  they  in- 
spired and  which  brought  the  little  darkies 
miles  through  the  cotton  fields  to  learn  their 
A,  B,  c's.  We  sat  in  the  sunshine  that  lovely 
October  afternoon  and  listened,  with  moistened 
eyes,  to  the  story  of  the  struggle  for  existence 
of  that  little  school.  It  taught  us  our  lesson, 
that  we  must  go  to  the  "low  downs";  they 
must  be  taught  to  rise. 

We  found  our  hostess  had  literally  nothing 


220  RECOLLECTIONS 

in  the  house  to  eat  except  bread  and  coffee, 
until  the  Monday  morning  when  the  children 
would  bring  their  contributions.  Fortunately 
we  had  a  small  provision  in  our  valises  (our 
smart  clothes  had  been  sent  home  from  Sa- 
vannah), which  we  brought  out,  and  we  thus 
had  the  pleasure  of  giving  our  hostesses  a  com- 
fortable evening  meal.  Then,  by  the  light  of 
the  moon,  convoyed  by  the  teachers,  and  with 
a  boy  to  carry  our  missionary  luggage,  we 
walked  about  two  miles  along  a  narrow  path, 
out  through  the  dense  growth  of  a  cotton  field 
to  a  small  station,  where  the  New  Orleans 
Express  could  be  flagged  to  stop  and  take  us 
to  Mobile.  On  the  platform  stood  an  old  gray- 
haired  negro  who,  with  the  good  manners  of 
the  past,  bowed  profoundly  as  he  was  intro- 
duced to  us  as  "our  Trustee." 

"I  hope  you  take  good  care  of  these  good 
women,"  I  said.  "I  do  my  best,  madam," 
he  replied. 

We  thought  of  our  friends  the  Trustees  in 
New  York,  in  their  libraries  and  luxurious  sur- 
roundings, and  we  resolved  that  they  should 
show  their  interest  in  their  old  colleague  in 
Alabama.  Accordingly,  the  next  morning,  in 
Mobile,  we  indulged  in  reckless  extravagance 
at  their  expense  in  furnishing  that  cottage,  and 


SOUTHERN  TRIP  221 

in  supplying  stores  of  every  kind,  and  we  did 
not  forget  the  old  Trustee.  The  subsequent 
history  of  this  school  is  so  interesting  and 
instructive  that  I  append  the  following,  taken 
from  its  last  annual  report,  of  1911 — this 
long  after  the  completion  of  the  new  teachers' 
home,  for  which  funds  were  sent  down  from 
Washington  shortly  after  our  return.  Later 
came  the  new  schoolhouse.* 

From  Mobile  we  turned  our  faces  north- 

*  From  report  of  1911.  The  People's  Village  School,  Mi.  Meigs, 
Alabama: 

"  The  school  has  made  rapid  strides  in  two  years."  Attend- 
ance, 1910-11,  233,  girls  and  boys;  tuition  fees  paid  $1,218.90. 
Attendance,  1911-12,  260,  boys  and  girls;  tuition  fees  paid 
$1,278.50.  "  We  are  not  trying  to  enlarge  the  work,  but  are 
simply  anxious  to  place  the  small  plant  on  the  very  best 
possible  footing.  The  industries  for  girls  are  sewing,  cooking, 
house  and  laundry  work.  These  are  the  essential  needs  of  the 
homes  from  which  our  girls  come.  The  laundry  room  will  only 
accomodate  four  girls  at  once,  but  we  are  making  the  best  of 
things  and  every  day  more  than  a  dozen  girls  get  a  chance  to 
work  there.  They  learn  to  make  starch,  to  iron  and  starch 
clothes,  and  above  all  how  to  wash  clean.  They  are  very  fond 
of  this  work  as  well  as  the  sewing."  A  laundry  stove  is  needed. 
"The  boys  are  taught  practical  farming  while  doing  the  farm 
work,  also  gardening."  Tools  are  needed.  They  are  also  taught 
cobbling.  Money  is  needed  for  repairs,  for  salaries,  for  almost 
everything.  "  The  brighter,  more  advanced  pupils  in  the  classes, 
girls  and  boys,  are  passed  on  to  higher  schools,  where  they  may 
be  fitted  to  become  teachers,  twelve  of  these  having  entered 
other  institutions  within  the  year."  The  annual  receipts  of  the 
school  are  a  little  over  $4,000.  The  school  shows  good  work, 
well  done,  but  is  sadly  hampered  by  lack  of  means. 


222  BECOLLECTIONS 

ward.  We  had  visited  twenty-eight  schools 
and  institutions,  had  seen  and  heard  much, 
and  we  felt  that  we  had  learned  our  lesson; 
we  knew  what  we  wanted  to  do  and  we  longed 
to  go  to  work.  We  stopped  over  two  days, 
to  visit  the  battlefield  of  Chattanooga.  No 
American  should  pass  that  way  and  fail  to 
pay  a  tribute  to  the  men  who  fell  on  those 
memorable  days.  They  now  lie  side  by  side, 
the  Blue  and  the  Gray,  on  those  hillsides,  each 
engagement  marked  on  the  monument  record- 
ing the  losses  on  that  particular  spot,  a  simple 
eloquent  story — American  history  carved  in 
stone. 


On  our  arrival  in  Washington,  we  presented 
our  report  to  the  Trustees  of  the  Slater  Fund. 
We  urged  that  efforts  should  be  made  to  induce 
the  School  Boards  of  the  South  to  introduce 
simple  industrial  education  into  the  colored 
schools,  and  to  increase  their  number.  We 
offered  to  appeal  to  the  School  Board  of  Nor- 
folk, Virginia,  to  allow  us  to  introduce  indus- 
trial training  into  one  colored  school  there, 
and  to  manage  it,  as  an  experiment,  at  our 
expense.  The  trustees  approved  of  our  sug- 
gestion, and  gave  us  $2,500  to  start  the  work 
if  permission  could  be  obtained. 


SOUTHERN  TRIP  223 

We  selected  Norfolk,  because  it  was  near 
Washington  and  the  centre  of  a  large  negro 
population,  with  extensive,  outlying  rural  dis- 
tricts filled  with  just  the  class  we  wished  to 
reach.  It  required  much  negotiation  to  induce 
the  Norfolk  School  Board  to  accede  to  our 
proposal,  and  to  allow  us  the  use  of  two  of 
their  school  rooms,  after  school  hours,  in  the 
one  large  building  appropriated  to  the  negroes; 
but  they  yielded  at  last. 

Our  first  task  was  to  clean  the  rooms, 
hygiene  evidently  not  being  a  part  of  the 
school  program.  One  room  was  fitted  up  as 
a  kitchen,  the  other  for  sewing.  The  only 
conditions  for  entrance  were  clean  hands  and 
faces  and  clean  aprons.  We  were  fortunate 
from  the  first  in  obtaining  the  services  as 
teachers  of  two  most  capable  and  intelligent 
women  from  New  York,  Miss  Breed  and  Miss 
Taylor.  It  has  always  been  an  article  of  faith 
with  me  that  He  who  inspires  a  work  will  send 
the  instruments  to  carry  it  out,  and  my  creed 
did  not  fail  me  here.  We  were  obliged  to  give 
our  teachers  a  free  hand,  and  they  justified 
our  confidence. 

It  is  now  sixteen  years  since  we  started  the 
work  in  Norfolk,  in  1895.  Since  then  we  have 
introduced  the  industrial  instruction  into 


224  RECOLLECTIONS 

thirty-three  schools  in  the  vicinity,  having 
3,000  children  on  the  rolls.  Boys  have  gone 
out  to  learn  trades  through  the  inspiration  of 
the  simple  instruction  known  as  "Sloyd"; 
girls  have  become  good  cooks,  seamstresses 
and  housemaids;  and  last,  but  not  least,  the 
School  Board  of  Norfolk  has  become  so  im- 
pressed with  the  value  of  the  instruction  that 
this  year  (1911)  it  has  assumed  the  expense 
of  it  in  the  colored  schools,  and,  what  is  more, 
has  introduced  similar  instruction  into  the 
white  schools.  Our  work  is  now  actively  under 
way  in  the  rural  districts,  where  the  parents 
express  themselves  with  gratitude,  and  the 
children  cannot  be  driven  away.  The  colored 
people  have  themselves  contributed  $675  to 
the  schools,  besides  their  labor.  At  present 
we  reach  over  7,000  women,  girls  and  boys. 
Of  course  we  have  had  discouragements  and 
disappointments,  but  the  success  has  far  out- 
weighed them. 

One  little  incident,  which  occurred  recently, 
has  been  to  me  an  exceeding  great  reward.  I 
was  walking  in  Washington  one  morning,  when 
I  heard  a  pleasant  voice  behind  me  say:  "Mrs. 
Hobson! "  I  turned,  and  saw  a  young  colored 
woman  who  said:  "Excuse  me,  you  don't 
know  me,  but  I  know  you,  and  I  want  to 


SOUTHERN  TRIP  225 

thank  you  for  what  you  have  done  for  my 
race."  * 


NOTE. — Mrs.  Hobson  had  the  great  happiness  of 
living  to  see,  to  some  extent,  the  fulfilment  of  her 
plans  and  hopes  for  the  introduction  of  industrial 
training  for  the  colored  people  into  the  public  school 
system  of  the  South. 

It  was  in  191 1,  sixteen  years  after  the  experiment  was 
being  tried  in  that  one  school  in  Norfolk,  of  which  she 
has  written,  that  the  work  of  the  Industrial  Classes  had 
so  proved  its  value  that  industrial  training  was  made 
part  of  the  public  school  system  for  all  the  colored 
schools  of  Norfolk  and  Portsmouth.  This  gave  her 
great  satisfaction  and  pleasure. 

The  work  was  still  continued,  however,  in  the  rural 
schools  in  the  vicinity  of  Norfolk,  the  expense  being 
paid  in  part  by  the  County  School  Boards  and,  in  much 
larger  part,  by  the  Southern  Industrial  Classes. 

*  Since  Mrs.  Hobson's  death,  two  memorial  services  have  been 
held  by  the  colored  people  of  Norfolk,  in  November  of  each  year, 
to  give  expression  to  "the  great  love  and  esteem  in  which  she  was 
held  by  the  colored  people  of  our  city."  "She  was  indeed  a  great 
benefactor,"  writes  one  of  them.  "Her  coming  was  always 
hailed  with  great  enthusiasm,  crowds  of  people  would  always 
be  on  hand  to  give  her  welcome  at  the  annual  exhibitions  of  her 
work" — so  the  letters  run — with  expressions  of  genuine  grief  over 
their  great  loss.  "We  have  formed  a  League  which  bears  her 
name,"  and  plan  to  meet  weekly,  to  sew,  and  "to  do  the  things 
she  so  much  liked." 

From  letters  of  Mrs.  Louise  E.  Titm,  of  Norfolk,  Va. 

C.  £.  H. 


226  RECOLLECTIONS 

As  her  eightieth  year  approached,  Mrs.  Hobson  felt 
solicitous  about  the  welfare  of  these  rural  schools,  not 
yet  ready  to  be  transferred  to  the  School  Boards  and 
for  which  there  was  no  permanent  provision.  She  greatly 
desired  that  the  Trustees  of  the  John  F.  Slater  Fund 
should  consent  to  take  over  the  work  of  the  Southern 
Industrial  Classes  after  her  death,  assuming  the  manage- 
ment as  well  as  the  expense,  until  such  time  as  the  indus- 
trial training  of  the  rural  schools  should  be  incorporated 
into  the  public  school  system.  With  the  approval  of  her 
Board  of  Managers,  she  made  this  request  of  the 
Trustees  in  the  spring  of  1912,  a  few  months  only 
before  her  death.  Fully  recognizing  the  value  and  im- 
portance of  the  work  that  was  being  done,  the  Trustees 
cordially  assented.  This  was  a  great  relief  and  satis- 
faction to  her,  as  she  felt  that  the  work  was  provided  for 
in  the  future,  and  would  be  conducted  on  sound  prin- 
ciples. 

It  must  have  been  a  happy  day  for  Mrs.  Hobson  when 
she  received  the  notification  that  the  Trustees  of  the 
John  F.  Slater  Fund,  at  their  annual  meeting,  held 
April  24,  1912,  had  adopted  the  resolution,  from  which 
the  following  extracts  are  given: 

"WHEREAS,  Mrs.  Elizabeth  C.  Hobson  (President 
of  the  Southern  Industrial  Classes  of  Norfolk,  Va.)  has 
addressed  to  the  Slater  Fund  Trustees  a  paper  in  which 
she  asks  them  to  take  over  the  work  of  the  Southern 
Industrial  Classes,  a  work  originating  with  and  inaugu- 
rated by  her  some  sixteen  years  ago,  which  during  that 
time  has  demonstrated  its  usefulness  and  its  great  suc- 
cess."  

Here  follows  a  detailed  statement  of  the  conditions 
on  which  the  Trustees  agree  to  take  over  the  work  and 


SOUTHERN  TRIP  227 

"accept  this  responsibility,"  the  resolution  concluding 
as  follows : 

"  With  this  understanding,  we  make  our  usual  appro- 
priation of  $3,500.  At  the  same  time,  we  desire  to  ex- 
press our  appreciation  of  Mrs.  Hobson's  long  and  earnest 
labors,  which  have  been  an  inspiration  and  incentive 
to  other  parts  of  the  South,  as  well  as  to  express  our 
regret  that  she  no  longer  feels  able  personally  to  con- 
duct the  Southern  Industrial  Classes." 

From  simply  reading  Mrs.  Hobson's  account,  in  the 
foregoing  pages,  of  what  has  been  accomplished,  no 
one  could  possibly  know  what  her  share  of  the  work 
had  been.  She  would  speak  of  the  assistance  rendered 
by  the  managers;  of  the  devotion  and  ability  of  Miss 
Breed  and  Miss  Ellen  Taylor,  successively  resident 
superintendents;  of  the  zeal  of  the  teachers,  both  white 
and  colored;  of  the  importance  of  the  work — but  not  of 
herself.  And  yet  she  was  always  its  mainspring.  She 
obtained  for  it  from  the  Slater  Fund  an  annual  grant 
of  $3,500,  to  which  was  added  each  year  over  $2,000 
given  by  her  personal  friends.  She  went  herself  to 
Norfolk  once  or  twice  every  year,  while  this  was 
possible;  she  encouraged  and  helped  the  workers  there; 
she  spared  herself  neither  trouble  nor  fatigue.  She 
was  not  only  the  originator  and  leader  of  the  work, 
but  its  inspiration  throughout.  Within  a  very  few 
days  of  her  death,  when  ill  and  weak,  she  was  still 
writing  letters  in  its  behalf. 

Mrs.  Hobson  died  in  June,  1912.  On  the  llth  of 
January,  1913,  the  Board  of  Managers  of  the  Southern 
Industrial  Classes  met,  passed  resolutions,  transferred 
the  work  to  the  Trustees  of  the  Slater  Fund  and  formally 
disbanded. 


228  RECOLLECTIONS 

The  distinguishing  feature  of  Mrs.  Hobson's  work 
was  not  the  industrial  training  of  the  negro.  That  was 
already  being  done,  on  a  large  and  most  important 
scale  at  Hampton,  as  originated  by  General  Armstrong; 
and  was  being  conducted  on  an  equally  important  scale 
by  Booker  Washington  at  Tuskegee  and  in  many  other 
places.  It  was  the  introduction  of  industrial  training 
for  negroes  into  the  public  school  system  of  the  South, 
which  originated  with  Mrs.  Hobson,  and  which,  be- 
ginning in  a  comparatively  small  way,  is  destined 
eventually  to  spread  through  all  the  Southern  States. 

CHARLOTTE  EVERETT  HOPKINS. 


XIII 

WASHINGTON 
1886-1912 

JT  was  in  September,  1886,  upon  my  re- 
turn to  the  United  States,  after  one  of 
my  not  infrequent  visits  to  Europe,  and  fully 
expecting  to  occupy  my  house  in  New  York, 
that  I  found,  somewhat  to  my  dismay,  that 
my  agent,  through  a  misunderstanding,  had 
renewed  the  lease  to  my  tenant,  and  I  was 
homeless.  I  accordingly  accepted  the  pro- 
posal of  my  sister,  Mrs.  Berdan,  to  accompany 
her  and  her  husband  to  Washington,  where 
they  had  planned  to  pass  the  winter. 

How  slight  are  the  causes  that  influence  our 
lives!  The  accident  of  the  renewal  of  that 
lease  transformed  the  whole  of  my  subsequent 
life,  removed  me  from  New  York,  from  its 
intimacies  and  associations,  and  opened  out  to 
me  new  interests  and  new  friends.  I  was 

229 


230  RECOLLECTIONS 

fifty-five  years  of  age,  in  perfect  health,  keen 
to  enjoy  what  life  offered  and  with  a  suffi- 
cient income  for  my  support.  We  took  a  lit- 
tle house  on  H  Street,  next  to  the  Hon. 
George  Bancroft's,  and  commenced  to  look 
about  us.  It  was  the  second  year  of  Mr. 
Cleveland's  administration.  He  had  recently 
married  the  charming  woman  we  all  learned  to 
love,  and  the  members  of  his  cabinet  and  their 
wives  composed  a  group  of  unusually  inter- 
esting men  and  women.  Mr.  Bayard,  then  a 
widower,  was  Secretary  of  State;  Mr.  Endi- 
cott,  Secretary  of  War;  Mr.  Whitney,  Secre- 
tary of  the  Navy;  Mr.  Manning,  Secretary, 
and  Mr.  Fairchild,  Assistant  Secretary  of  the 
Treasury. 

Before  I  speak  of  people  in  official  life,  I 
must  give  a  short  account  of  the  non-official 
society.  Washington  had  not  then  become  a 
winter  city;  the  millionaires  of  the  East  and 
West  had  not  yet  discovered  the  charm  of  its 
climate  and  the  interests  of  its  life.  There  was 
hardly  a  house  beyond  Dupont  Circle.  Six- 
teenth Street  was  lined  with  negro  shanties, 
and  where  now  stand  the  stately  marble  man- 
sions on  Massachusetts  Avenue,  nothing  could 
then  be  seen,  as  the  streets  were  not  even 
opened.  The  region  behind  the  White  House 


WASHINGTON  231 

was  a  marsh,  and  Rock  Creek  park  did  not 
exist — in  fact,  was  an  unexplored  region.  H 
Street,  where  we  established  ourselves,  was 
the  centre  of  society.  Our  nearest  neighbors 
were  the  Hon.  George  Bancroft,  Hon.  Ban- 
croft Davis,  Mrs.  Clymer,  whose  daughter 
afterwards  married  Mr.  Bayard,  General 
Beale  and  Mr.  Corcoran,  followed  by  the  resi- 
dences of  Mr.  Henry  Adams  and  Mr.  John 
Hay.  Beyond,  Senator  Cameron's  beautiful 
young  wife  was  established,  and  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Square  were  the  Blairs  and  other 
old  residents.  It  can  be  seen  that  we  were  in 
good  company,  and  I  shall  always  gratefully 
remember  the  cordial  reception  we  received. 
One  of  the  first  entertainments  we  attended 
was  at  the  house  of  Mrs.  Bancroft  Davis.  It 
was  what  was  called  an  evening  party,  a  din- 
ner at  eight  o'clock,  the  other  guests  coming 
from  ten  to  eleven.  'Twas  a  delightful  way 
of  entertaining.  The  dinner  guests  had  seen 
enough  of  each  other  and  the  new  arrivals 
brought  in  a  fresh  and  agreeable  element. 
That  evening  I  asked  some  one  the  name  of  a 
man  whose  appearance  interested  me.  "I 
don't  know,"  was  the  reply,  "but  depend 
upon  it  he  is  somebody,  or  he  would  not  be 
here."  He  proved  to  be  Mr.  Phelps,  our  Mm- 


232  RECOLLECTIONS 

ister  to  England,  where  he  was  greatly  prized, 
at  home  for  a  few  weeks.  Those  delightful 
evening  parties  are  now  a  thing  of  the  past, 
for  the  present  crowded  evening  receptions  in 
no  way  resemble  them.  There  were  never 
more  than  thirty  or  forty  persons  present;  we 
sat  in  groups;  we  had  time  for  gossip,  discus- 
sions and  flirtations.  The  gatherings  at  Judge 
Loring's,  Secretary  Endicott's,  and  Mr.  Sam- 
uel Gray  Ward's  were  the  most  notable. 
Judge  Loring  and  his  clever  wife  and  daughters 
were  always  at  home  Sunday  evenings,  and 
there  I  met  for  the  first  time  the  great  men 
who  had  fought  in  the  Civil  War.  They  are  all 
gone  now,  and  their  lives  have  been  written, 
and  their  features  immortalized  in  marble  and 
bronze;  but  I  love  to  think  that  I  knew  Grant, 
Sherman  and  Sheridan,  that  I  have  heard  the 
tale  of  the  Monitor  right  from  Worden's  lips, 
and  laughed  and  joked  with  many  of  those 
whose  names  are  now  historic.  One  is  still 
left,  General  Horace  Porter,  who  was  in  most 
of  the  great  battles. 

At  Secretary  Endicott's  we  met  always  a 
delightful  circle,  and  it  was  made  especially 
interesting  that  winter  by  the  undisguised 
courtship  of  the  lovely  daughter  of  the  house 
by  Mr.  Chamberlain.  I  was  present  at  a 


WASHINGTON  233 

dinner  at  Mrs.  Endicott's  the  day  the  engage- 
ment was  announced,  when  the  atmosphere 
was  certainly  charged  with  as  many  dis- 
cordant elements  as  could  well  have  been 
brought  together.  The  dinner  was  given  to 
Lady  Herbert,  who  had  come  over  to  attend 
the  marriage  of  her  son  (afterwards  Am- 
bassador) to  Miss  Wilson.  It  was  the  day 
after  the  defeat  of  the  Democratic  party  by 
the  Republicans,  when  my  brother-in-law, 
Mr.  Morton,  had  been  elected  Vice-President. 
I  was,  of  course,  happy,  and  Mr.  Bancroft 
Davis,  who  was  a  good  Republican,  pressed 
my  hand  in  sympathy  under  the  table. 
Senator  Gibson,  a  Democrat,  shared  the  feel- 
ings of  our  hosts.  With  the  exception  of 
Lady  Herbert,  who  was  perfectly  unconscious, 
all  the  guests  realized  the  situation,  and  we 
so  exerted  ourselves  that  by  the  time  the 
game  was  served  we  were  all  in  capital  spirits. 
I  asked  Mrs.  Endicott,  some  years  afterwards, 
if  she  remembered  that  dinner.  "Yes,  in- 
deed," she  replied,  "and  I  cannot  tell  you 
how  grateful  I  was  to  you  all."  I  was  also 
present  at  the  wedding,  a  month  later,  when 
Mr.  Whitney  displayed  that  ready  hospitality 
for  which  he  was  afterwards  so  celebrated. 
At  the  wedding-breakfast,  Mr.  Whitney  dis- 


234  RECOLLECTIONS 

covered  that  the  large  party  from  Boston 
were  to  be  in  Washington  that  night.  He 
promptly  invited  them  all  (about  forty)  to 
dinner.  By  four  o'clock  invitations  were  re- 
ceived to  an  evening  reception.  We  had 
music  and  dancing,  and  everybody  remem- 
bered with  pleasure  Miss  Endicott's  wedding 
day. 

It  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  dwell  on  her  re- 
markable career  in  England.  As  an  English 
lady  of  rank  said  to  me:  "Mrs.  Chamberlain 
is  the  best  you  have  sent  us."  After  all,  even 
in  a  Republic,  the  old  blood  tells.  To  this  day 
there  is  something  about  Boston  people  of  old 
descent  which  especially  distinguishes  them. 
The  men  are  the  only  ones  I  know  who  can 
lead  lives  of  leisure  and  not  seem  lazy.  They 
find  something  to  do  which  interests  them, 
without  giving  all  their  time  to  making  money 
or  in  spending  it.  Of  course  these  men  have 
money,  inherited  or  acquired,  but  it  is  not 
offensively  apparent;  it  seems  to  fit  them  like 
their  clothes:  they  don't  talk  about  it  and 
they  don't  pity  people  who  haven't  it.  My 
dear  friend,  William  Endicott,  is  of  this  class. 

To  return  to  Washington.  I  have  spoken 
of  Mr.  Whitney.  He  made  a  good  reputation 
as  Secretary  of  the  Navy;  in  fact,  he  may  be 


WASHINGTON  235 

said  to  have  created  our  modern  Navy,  but  he 
also  started  a  new  era  in  Washington  society. 
He  set  the  extravagant  pace  in  entertain- 
ments which  has  gone  on  increasing  ever 
since. 

Mr.  Cleveland  was  a  great  President.  He 
was  laborious  and  conscientious,  brave  and 
fearless;  and,  although  I  am  a  Republican, 
"dyed  in  the  wool,"  there  are  several  notable 
events  in  his  administration  of  which,  as  an 
American,  I  am  very  proud. 

That  winter  in  Washington  was  so  pleasant 
that  I  decided  to  settle  there.  Four  years  of 
absence  had  loosened,  but  not  severed,  my 
ties  with  New  York.  I  bought  a  house  in 
N  street,  and  it  has  been  my  happy  home  ever 
since.* 

Mr.  Harrison  succeeded  Mr.  Cleveland  as 
President.  He  was  a  statesman,  a  fine  speaker 
and  a  great  lawyer;  but  in  manner  he  was  the 
coldest  and  most  unsympathetic  man  I  ever 
met.  My  brother-in-law,  Mr.  Morton,  was 
the  Vice-President.  By  his  second  wife  he 
had  five  daughters,  who  were  just  then  grow- 
ing up.  Our  intimacy  was  as  close  as  if  we 

*  Mrs.  Hobson's  home  was  at  1820  N  street,  a  house  noted  for 
its  hospitality  and  where  she  gathered  about  her,  in  an  informal 
way,  the  most  interesting  people  to  be  met  in  Washington. 

Editor. 


236  RECOLLECTIONS 

had  been  blood  relations.  I  found  myself 
with  a  family  around  me,  and  I  had  with  me 
besides,  at  that  time,  my  niece,  Susan  Lay, 
whose  father  was  our  Consul-General  in  Ot- 
tawa. That  winter  Susan  became  acquainted 
with  Mr.  William  F.  Wharton,  Assistant 
Secretary  of  State.  They  became  engaged, 
and  were  married  a  short  time  afterwards. 

Mr.  Morton  bought  a  fine  large  house  on 
Scott  Circle  and,  during  his  four  years  of 
office,  maintained  its  dignity  by  a  hospitality 
which  made  it  the  centre  of  social  and  political 
life. 

And  now  I  must  say  something  of  the  White 
House  life  during  the  Roosevelt  administra- 
tion. No  one  could  know  Mrs.  Roosevelt 
without  admiring  her;  she  rose  to  her  great 
position  with  such  dignity  and  grace.  Her 
sweetness  and  serenity  shed  an  atmosphere 
of  domestic  sunshine  in  those  great  rooms,  and 
her  cordial  manner  to  the  thousands  of  visitors 
seemed  to  each  a  personal  welcome.  She  had 
a  keen  sense  of  humor,  and  one  can  easily 
imagine  that  in  her  husband's  society  it  was 
constantly  exercised.  I  doubt  if  in  the  whole 
country  there  exists  a  happier  couple.  Those 
luncheons  at  the  White  House!  How  I  used 
to  enjoy  them!  Rarely  more  than  eight 


WASHINGTON  237 

guests,  and  generally  people  of  note  who  were 
passing  through  town.  Mr.  Roosevelt  has 
pre-eminently  the  hospitable  instinct,  and  its 
essence  was  in  those  luncheons.  Such  frank- 
ness in  conversation,  such  wit,  such  anecdote! 
I  remember  a  friend  from  New  York  saying 
to  me  after  leaving  the  table:  "Of  course  it  is 
an  unwritten  law  that  nothing  is  ever  re- 
peated that  is  said  here."  The  President  al- 
ways said  good-bye  to  his  guests  as  he  rose 
from  the  table,  and  Mrs.  Roosevelt  soon  after 
we  reached  the  drawing-room,  an  arrange- 
ment which  provoked  a  good  deal  of  criticism 
from  people  who  came  from  other  parts  of 
the  country.  They  did  not  seem  to  realize 
that  their  hosts'  days  were  occupied  to  the 
fullest  extent,  and  that  each  hour  had  its 
engagements.  Of  course  no  one  can  occupy 
such  a  position  without  criticism;  everybody 
cannot  be  pleased.  But  no  administration 
since  my  residence  in  Washington  (of  twenty- 
six  years)  has  exercised  such  generous  and 
delightful  hospitality,  or  given  such  a  tone  to 
society,  as  that  of  the  seven  years  when  Mrs. 
Roosevelt  was  the  "first  lady  in  the  land." 


LAST  JOTTINGS  AND   LAST  LETTERS 

Washington, 

January,  1912. 

I  have  now  brought  these  reminiscences  up 
to  date.  If  I  continue  they  must  be  in  the 
form  of  a  journal,  and  I  doubt  if  I  can  make 
them  of  much  interest. 

February  27th. 

Yesterday  Mr.  Roosevelt  "threw  his  hat 
into  the  ring"  as  he  said,  and  announced  that, 
if  he  should  be  renominated  at  Chicago,  he 
would  enter  the  race  for  President,  represent- 
ing the  Progressive  Party. 

March,  1912. 

We  are  in  the  midst  of  the  plans  and  prepa- 
rations for  the  Republican  and  Democratic 
conventions,  to  take  place  in  June.  Mr.  Taft 
is  using  all  his  influence  to  secure  delegates 

239 


240  RECOLLECTIONS 

instructed  for  him,  and  Mr.  Roosevelt  is  con- 
vinced that  the  people  want  him. 

Sunday,  April  21, 1912. 

The  whole  country  has  been  stricken  with 
grief  and  indignation  at  the  loss  of  the  Titanic. 
The  tragedy  is  so  appalling,  caused  by  such 
utter  disregard  of  threatened  danger  and  lack 
of  adequate  preparation  for  emergencies,  that 
the  government  and  the  people  are 

This  broken  line  is  the  last. 


Mrs.  Hobson  died  in  Bar  Harbor,  Maine, 
at  her  summer  home,  "Cornersmeet  Cottage," 
on  the  llth  of  June,  1912. 


It  was  in  the  spring  of  1912  that  Mrs.  Hob- 
son's  last  illness  declared  itself.  All  her  life 
she  had  been  very  strong,  scarcely  an  ailment 
beyond  an  ordinary  cold  now  and  then,  but 
in  her  eightieth  year  she  realized  that  this 
could  not  long  continue.  She  was  so  buoy- 
ant, so  full  of  life,  that  her  friends  gave  but 
little  thought  to  her  advancing  years,  until 
they  found  that  she  was  anxious  to  have  her 
"Southern  Industrial  Classes"  taken  over  and 
cared  for  by  the  Trustees  of  the  Slater  Fund 


LAST  JOTTINGS  AND  LAST  LETTERS         241 

in  case  of  her  death,  and  was  arranging  for 
this. 

Always  direct,  when  the  first  attack  of  pain 
came,  she  insisted  upon  knowing  from  her 
devoted  physician  and  friend,  Dr.  Sofie  Nord- 
hoff  Jung,  the  nature  of  the  trouble,  and 
when  told  that  it  was  angina  pectoris,  she 
faced  it  with  the  same  brave  spirit  that  she 
had  shown  through  all  the  varied  circum- 
stances of  her  life. 

She  thought,  her  friends  thought,  that  the 
end  would  not  be  so  soon,  that  she  might  as 
an  invalid  live  for  several  years  to  come.  But 
this,  for  one  accustomed  to  no  restraint  in  her 
movements,  to  whom  travelling,  either  in 
Europe  or  this  country,  and  activity  of  all 
kinds,  were  part  of  her  daily  life,  was  indeed 
a  new  experience.  How  would  she  meet  it? 
How  take  it?  How  accept  the  life  of  an 
invalid? 

Her  own  letters  tell  us. 

TO   MISS   LOUISA   LEE   SCHUYLER 

Washington, 

May  24, 1912. 

"I  am  far  from  well,"  she  writes,  "am  on 
a  rigid  diet,  and  am  forbidden  any  exertion, 


242  RECOLLECTIONS 

such  as  walking,  running  up  and  down  stairs, 
in  fact  doing  anything  I  have  been  accustomed 
to  do.  Well — I  have  had  wonderful  health 
and  much  happiness,  the  best  of  relatives  and 
friends,  and  I  am  most  grateful  for  the  past 

and  resigned  to  the  future I  expect 

to  leave  here  next  Tuesday  for  Garrison,  and 
I  should  like  to  see  you  as  soon  as  possible 
after  I  get  there Your  letter,  re- 
ceived this  morning,  gratified  me  very  much. 
That  my  little  memoir  of  a  great  event  should 
have  interested  the  creators  of  it  is  indeed 
flattering  to  me.  It  was  written  from  the 
point  of  my  pen,  just  as  the  incidents  crowded 
into  my  mind  as  I  wrote."  * 

TO   MISS   SCHUYLER 

Washington, 

May  28th. 

"I  have  been  quite  ill  for  the  last  week,  con- 
fined to  my  bed,  and  have  had  to  give  up  my 
visit  to  Garrison.**  I  am  ordered  to  go  direct 
to  Bar  Harbor  on  Tuesday.  Let  me  see  you  as 
soon  as  you  come  up  to  North  East  Harbor." 

*  This  refers  to  the  reading  aloud  on  May  11, 1912,  the  fortieth 
anniversary  of  the  founding  of  the  State  Charities  Aid  Associa- 
tion, of  part  of  her  chapter  on  the  Bellevue  Training  School  for 
Nurses,  which  excited  great  interest  among  all  present. — Editor. 

**  To  Mrs.  H.  Fairfield  Osborn,  on  the  Hudson. 


LAST  JOTTINGS  AND  LAST  LETTERS         243 


TO  MR.  AND  MRS.  H.  FAIRFIELD  OSBORN 

Cornersmeet  Cottage, 

Bar  Harbor,  Maine, 

June  4,  1912. 

"I  found  your  dear  letters  and  telegram 
when  I  reached  here  last  evening,  and  they 
warmed  my  heart  which,  Hired/  as  the  doc- 
tor says,  still  beats  strong  for  those  I  love. 

I  wish  you  could  have  seen  the  cavalcade 
which  left  1820  N.  street  last  Saturday.  Mrs. 
Norman  Williams  sent  her  carriage  for  me,  and 
with  Dr.  Nordhoff  and  Dr.  Fremont-Smith,  I 
started  for  the  station.  A  taxicab  with 
'Hutchy'*  and  the  boxes  followed.  Then 
Corcoran  and  Mary  in  another,  and  the  Lays 
all  in  the  rear!  Dr.  Smith  arranged  to  accom- 
pany me  to  Bar  Harbor.  We  could  not 
secure  a  drawing  room,  but  the  doctor  thought 
it  was  important  that  I  should  get  away,  and 
he  would  take  the  risk  of  my  sitting  up  to 
twelve  o'clock.  I  was  so  exhausted  with  the 
Scandinavian  Legation  being  my  neighbors, 
that  I  suddenly  exclaimed;  How  good  it 
would  be  to  have  a  private  car!  This  was 

*Her  faithful  maid,  Hutchinson,  devoted  to  her  for  many 
years. — Editor. 


244  RECOLLECTIONS 

enough  for  my  niece,  Mary  Thorn,  who  was 
with  me.  She  immediately  asked  Dr.  Smith 
to  telegraph  the  order,  and  in  half  an  hour 
the  answer  came  that  a  car  would  be  wait- 
ing for  me  at  Jersey  City.  And  there  it  was. 
I  went  to  bed  and  slept  all  the  way  to 
Boston.  Susy  Wharton  came  here  with  me, 
and  stayed  Saturday  and  Sunday  in  Boston. 
We  had  a  good  rest  at  the  Puritan  Hotel,  a 
new  hotel,  most  comfortable,  no  strike  ! 

The  kindness  of  dear  Dr.  Nordhoff  cannot 
be  imagined.  She  came  to  see  me  one  day 
four  times.  Dr.  Fremont-Smith  and  she 
agreed  exactly  about  my  case,  so  I  feel  that 
I  am  in  good  hands.  As  for  my  friends  in 
Washington,  I  can  only  say  God  bless  them! 

And  now  I  am  in  this  dear  little  cottage, 
in  this  delicious  air  perfumed  with  white 
lilacs,  and  I  am  most  grateful  to  God  for  all 
His  mercies. 

It  makes  me  sad  that  you,  my  dearest 
ones,  are  to  be  away  this  summer.  Do  come 
back  soon.  Best  love  to  Virginia,  and  thank 
her  for  her  sweet  letter  and  telegram.  Also 
to  Josephine  and  the  two  splendid  boys." 


LAST  JOTTINGS  AND  LAST  LETTERS         245 


TO   MISS   SCHUYLEE 

Bar  Harbor, 

June  6. 

"  I  asked  Mrs.  Osborn  to  send  you  my  letter 
written  after  my  arrival,  which  told  the  story 
of  my  journey.  Since  then  I  have  been  rest- 
ing from  the  great  fatigue  of  the  journey 
which,  in  spite  of  all  the  alleviations,  was  a 
hard  one.  But  now  I  am  in  this  sweet  little 
cottage,  breathing  the  air  perfumed  with 
lilacs,  and  am  at  peace. 

My  dear  niece,  Susy  Wharton,  came  here 
with  me,  and  when  she  returns  to  Groton,  my 
niece,  Mary  Thorn,  will  come — such  dear 
girls  as  they  are 

I  am  now  striving  to  acquire  resignation 
and  self-control  so  that  I  may  be  able  to  con- 
form cheerfully  to  the  new  life  which  is  before 
me.  Of  course  I  needed  the  lesson  or  it 
would  not  have  been  sent  to  me.  Thank  God 
that  my  '  faculties/  as  the  old  New  England- 
ers  called  them,  are  still  mine. 

God  bless  the  dear  sisters." 

It  is  in  this  letter  that  Mrs.  Hobson  speaks 
of  two  chapters  of  her  memoirs  and  asks 


246  RECOLLECTIONS 

"that  they  be  sent  on  to  Margaret  Aldrich  to 
read,"  adding  "you  know  Margaret  is  the 
one  who  inspired  me  to  write  the  Recollec- 
tions." 

TO   MISS   MARY   PARSONS 

Bar  Harbor, 

June  8. 

"My  little  parlor  has  been  glorified  by 
lupins  and  iris,  sent  by  you  through  Mrs. 
Coats  with  a  loving  message,  and  I  want  to 
send  you  a  few  words  of  thanks  and  affection 
for  thus  thinking  of  me. 

Yes,  here  I  am  an  invalid  for  the  first 
time  in  my  life,  for  I  don't  count  the  acci- 
dents or  the  occasional  attacks  of  bronchitis. 
But  I  am  forced  to  accept  the  fact  that  the 
heart  that  has  beaten  so  long  and  served  me 
so  well  is  calling  a  halt,  and  that  I  must 
submit  and  live  accordingly.  Well,  few  women 
have  had  such  a  long,  healthy  and  happy  life, 
and  I  am  most  grateful  to  Him  who  has  sent 
me  so  many  blessings — among  the  greatest 
the  dear  friends  who  have  never  failed  me. 
Among  these,  dear  Mary,  I  count  you,  and 
I  trust  that  sometime  this  summer  I  shall 
have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  here,  to  have 
again  one  of  our  long,  sympathetic  talks. 


LAST  JOTTINGS  AND  LAST  LETTERS         247 

Dear  Nelly  Blodgett  is  coming  to  see  me 
to-morrow.  Susy  Wharton  came  here  with 
me,  and  when  she  returns  next  week  Mary 
Thorn  comes,  and  my  sister  Carrie  later.  I 
expect  my  sister,  Mary  Berdan,  will  come 
with  Mrs.  Woodworth,  who  sails  June  14.". 


TO   MISS   MAUDE    K.    WETMORE 

Cornersmeet  Cottage, 

Bar  Harbor, 

June  10,  1912. 

"I  cannot  tell  you  how  sorry  I  was  not  to 
see  you  when  you  came  the  day  before  I  left, 
but  the  doctor  was  imperative  that  I  should 
see  no  one.  I  am  only  just  beginning  to 
realize  how  serious  my  illness  is,  and  that 
hereafter  I  must  regard  myself  as  more  or 
less  of  an  invalid;  the  heart  is  not  to  be  trifled 
with,  and  mine  is  an  old  one  which  has  done 
a  great  deal  of  work  in  its  time 

My  little  cottage  is  comfort  itself  and  I 
hope  in  time  to  be  able  to  drive  out.  As  I 
lie  here  in  bed,  I  think  with  much  gratitude 
that  we  were  able  this  spring  to  settle  the 
matter  of  the  schools  so  satisfactorily,  and 
that  hereafter  they  will  go  on,  spreading  from 
county  to  county  through  Virginia  and  further 


248  RECOLLECTIONS 

on.  The  last  sentence  of  the  Slater  resolu- 
tion I  often  repeat  to  myself — that  the  work 
has  been  an  inspiration  to  the  whole  South. 
I  trust,  dear  Maude,  that  you  will  always 
take  an  interest  in  it,  and  extend  that  strong, 
firm  hand  of  yours  toward  it  when  it  wants 
guidance  and  encouragement  beyond  the  work 
of  those  Boards.  It  is  the  personal  touch 
which  keeps  such  work  alive.  Boards  are 
so  impersonal,  they  appropriate  the  money 
and  then  go  about  their  own  business.  The 
report  this  year  is  going  to  be  very  interest- 
ing, especially  the  teachers'  letters.  I  pro- 
pose that  a  meeting  shall  be  called  in  the 
autumn  and  one  in  the  spring,  the  first  to 
report  plans,  and  the  second  to  report  prog- 
ress. I  have  written  to  Emily  Mulligan 
about  it. 

I  cannot  tell  you,  dear  Maude,  how  much 
I  value  the  affection  you  have  always  shown 
me,  and  now  that  I  lie  in  bed  and  count  over 
my  blessings,  I  always  include  you  among  the 
dear  ones  I  love." 

This  was  probably  the  last  letter  written  by 
Mrs.  Hobson,  for,  a  few  hours  later,  she  was 
taken  suddenly  and  alarmingly  ill.  Doctor 
Smith  was  summoned.  "Doctor,  am  I  dy- 


249 

ing?  "  she  said  to  him.  He,  fully  believing  she 
would  rally,  answered,  "No,  Mrs.  Hobson, 
you  are  not  dying. ' '  She  said  no  more,  nothing 
to  indicate  that  she  knew  the  end  was  near. 
Gradually  she  became  weaker  and  finally  un- 
conscious, passing  away  in  the  early  morning 
of  the  llth  of  June,  1912,  without  suffering, 
quietly,  peacefully. 

There  is  nothing  to  regret,  for  her  nor  for 
those  who  loved  her,  but  rather  cause  for  deep 
thankfulness.  Instead  of  years  of  possible 
invalidism  and  suffering,  there  came  the  merci- 
ful, quick  release.  She  had  accepted  her  great 
trial  with  entire  resignation  to  the  will  of  God, 
and  was  ready  to  go. 

Her  last  day,  or  rather  the  day  before  the 
last,  was  a  happy  one.  Her  beloved  niece, 
Mrs.  Wharton,  was  with  her,  her  dear  friend, 
Miss  Blodgett,  had  come  from  North  East 
Harbor  to  see  her.  In  that  little  parlor,  so 
associated  with  all  that  was  pleasant — a  warm 
welcome,  hospitality,  good  talk — she  lay  on 
the  sofa  with  the  two  young  friends  she  loved 
by  her  side,  while  through  the  open  windows 
came  the  soft  June  air  and  the  perfume  of 
flowers.  Luncheon  was  announced — but  not 
for  her,  not  for  the  invalid!  A  few  minutes 
later,  much  to  their  surprise,  she  joined  her 


250  RECOLLECTIONS 

friends  at  table,  saying,  "she  did  not  mean  to 
be  shut  out  from  such  gooyd  company,"  and, 
taking  her  seat,  led  the  conversation  as  delight- 
fully as  ever.  It  was  Mrs.  Hobson's  youth, 
not  her  age,  which  impressed  people,  and  this 
lasted  to  the  end. 

In  the  vestibule  of  Grace  Church,  the  church 
she  had  attended  when  living  in  New  York, 
on  a  beautiful  June  morning,  she  lay  covered 
with  flowers,  her  family  and  her  friends  about 
her.  They  had  come  from  Boston,  Washing- 
ton, Norfolk,  Va.,  from  Long  Island  and  the 
Hudson  River,  many  of  those  whose  names 
appear  in  these  memoirs  and  many  others. 
They  gathered  about  her  in  that  little  vestibule, 
wishing  to  be  near,  to  lay  a  flower  at  her  feet, 
to  feel  again  that  sense  of  companionship 
•  which,  in  her  case,  death  had  not  taken  away. 
It  was  characteristic  that  she  had  requested 
the  Te  Deum  to  be  sung  instead  of  the  funeral 
psalms. 

She  lies  in  Greenwood,  in  her  father's  plot. 


The  following  notice  of  Mrs.  Hobson  ap- 
peared in  the  New  York  Evening  Post  of  June 
14,  1912,  and  is  inserted  here  by  request  of 


LAST  JOTTINGS  AND  LAST  LETTERS         251 

her  family.  Written  by  one  of  her  friends, 
it  is  so  appreciative  of  Mrs.  Hobson's  per- 
sonality, character  and  achievement  that  it 
is  appended  in  full  as  a  fitting  close  to  these 
memoirs. 

"  The  death  of  Mrs.  Joseph  Hobson,-of  Wash- 
ington, at  her  summer  home  in  Bar  Harbor, 
June  11,  1912,  brings  to  her  wide  circle  of 
friends  a  sense  of  irreparable  loss,  for  her  eighty 
years  found  her  young  in  heart  and  in  head 
and  brought  her  only  the  gift  of  added  wisdom 
and  sympathy.  Of  good  old  New  England 
descent,  educated  in  New  York,  living  for 
many  years  after  her  marriage  in  South 
America — her  husband,  the  head  of  one  of  the 
great  business  houses  there — Mrs.  Hobson  had 
the  lifelong  habit  of  hospitality,  the  habit  of 
society,  and  the  power  to  understand  and  to 
appreciate  persons  of  all  countries  and  callings. 
This  social  talent  was  still  further  enhanced  by 
a  later  residence  in  New  York  and  in  Europe, 
her  family  connections  bringing  her  in  contact 
with  both  diplomatic  and  literary  circles  in 
Rome,  Constantinople,  Berlin,  and  Paris. 

In  whichever  country  Mrs.  Hobson  resided, 
and  however  much  interested  in  its  public 
questions,  she  was  always  a  loyal  American, 
allowing  no  aspersions  upon  her  country  and 


252  RECOLLECTIONS 

proud  of  her  American  citizenship.  She  read 
extensively,  was  cultivated  in  many  directions, 
and  her  letters  are  full  of  charm.  Her  intel- 
ligent and  independent  point  of  view,  her 
kindly  humor  and  vivacity,  and  her  fund  of 
anecdote,  made  her  conversation  most  inter- 
esting. She  spoke  both  French  and  Spanish 
fluently,  and  her  house  in  Washington,  for 
the  past  twenty-five  years,  has  been  a  centre 
of  delightful  social  intercourse. 

But  the  earnest  side  of  Mrs.  Hobson's  char- 
acter was  too  strong  and  deep  to  be  satisfied 
with  social  achievements  only.  Loyal  and 
devoted  to  her  family  and  friends,  her  heart 
and  her  helpfulness  went  out  to  a  much  wider 
range  of  interests.  In  New  York,  in  1872-73, 
she  showed  marked  ability  as  a  member  of  the 
committee  of  the  State  Charities  Aid  Associa- 
tion, which  organized  the  Bellevue  Training 
School  for  Nurses,  the  first  school  of  the  kind 
in  this  country  for  the  training  of  nurses.  As 
chairman  of  the  Hospital  Committee  of  the 
Association,  she  introduced  'First  Aid  to  the 
Injured'  into  this  city  and  country,  organiz- 
ing the  first  society  of  that  name.  Of  late 
years,  after  she  had  made  Washington  her 
permanent  residence,  Mrs.  Hobson  gave  her 
whole-hearted  support  to  the  industrial  train- 


LAST  JOTTINGS  AND  LAST  LETTERS         253 

ing  of  the  colored  people,  especially  that  of 
young  girls.  For  them  she  established  the 
"Southern  Industrial  Classes,"  in  Norfolk, 
Va.,  and  in  other  parts  of  Virginia.  The 
success  of  this  work  was  so  great  that  it  has 
been  taken  over  as  part  of  the  public-school 
system  of  Norfolk,  and  is  gradually  being  ex- 
tended elsewhere  in  the  South.  This  is  one  of 
Mrs.  Hobson's  most  important  achievements. 
Throughout  her  long  life  of  eighty  years, 
'a  happy  life/  as  she  always  called  it,  Mrs. 
Hobson's  sweet  and  strong  nature  brought  love 
and  cheer  into  many  hearts  of  several  genera- 
tions. Her  active  life,  with  all  her  faculties 
unimpaired,  continued  to  within  a  few  weeks 
of  her  death.  Then  came  the  warning  note 
that  henceforth  hers  must  be  a  life  of  cir- 
cumscribed effort.  This  she  accepted  with 
the  same  sweet  spirit  and  religious  faith 
which  never  failed  her.  The  end  came  sooner 
than  was  anticipated.  Suddenly,  peacefully, 
without  suffering,  she  passed  on  into  that 
other  world  of  light  and  love." 


APPENDIX 

A  PETITION 

To  Mrs.  Joseph  Hobson 

And  have  you  kept  no  diaries, 
To  hand  you  on  and  off  the  stage, 
Whenever  talk  turns  on  our  age 

As  learned  from  Lives  and  Memories? 

While  we  who  knew  you  live  to  quote, 
Your  words  and  views  must  oft  be  heard; 
But  you,  who  find  tradition  blurred, 

Should  not  be  shrined  in  anecdote. 

Neat  pages,  like  your  livre-de-comptes, 
Should  sum  the  seasons  you  have  seen; 
From  Lima  to  the  Levantine 

You  could  put  down  the  things  that  count. 

We  know  you  missed  the  Civil  War 

Sojourning  in  a  distant  land; 

Yet  in  one  fight  you  took  a  hand 
By  sailing  on  a  man-of-war. 
255 


256  RECOLLECTIONS 

You  reached  New  York  in  time  to  clean 
Those  wards  which  made  the  dying  dead, 
But  old  reports  aren't  often  read 

And  many  know  not  what  has  been. 


We  want  your  story  of  the  South, 

How  you  have  seen  the  black  man  learn, 
And  then  we  want  the  page  to  turn 

On  how  you  loathe  the  tariff's  growth. 

The  world  has  changed  since  you  were  young 
You  hold  an  age  in  either  hand, 
And  each  you  love  and  understand, 

But  not  so  those  you  walk  among; 


The  early  half  is  long  ago, 

And  we  delight  to  hear  you  state, 
Now  humorous  and  now  sedate, 

The  way  you  learned  the  things  you  know. 


No  kindergarten  had  been  made, 

But  there  were  Bibles,  were  there  not? 
The  summer  never  seemed  too  hot 

To  stay  at  home  and  in  the  shade. 


Your  parents  held  that  common  sense 
Went  further  than  too  broad  a  mind, 
They  did  not  think  to  be  " refined" 

Or  "delicate"  should  give  offense. 


A  PETITION  257 

There  was  a  lady  in  despair! 

Her  husband  had  disgraced  their  name; 

Back  to  her  father's  house  she  came 
And  wore  strange  caps  upon  her  hair. 

You  thought  her  very  old,  of  course, 
Yet  she  was  only  thirty-five, 
And  moved  as  though  but  half  alive; 

That  was  the  way  they  took  Divorce. 

You  see  we  listen  when  you  tell, 
But  we  have  not  your  clear-cut  prose, 
And  so  we  pray  you  to  compose 

These  pictures  you  have  loved  so  well. 


As  for  the  child  you  sit  and  sew 

Small  garments,  soon  to  be  outgrown; 
We  think  instead  you  should  put  down 

The  things  you  wish  that  she  might  know; 


And  when  the  daily  note  you  write, 

We  also  crave  that,  in  a  book, 

You'd  say  who  came  and  which  man  took 
You  in  to  dinner  on  that  night. 


You  may  not  owe  this  to  a  friend, 
Nor  to  your  nieces  great  and  small, 
But  something  you  do  owe  for  all, 

The  books  of  memories  which  blend 


358  RECOLLECTIONS 

Themselves  together  in  your  mind; 
How  often  we  have  heard  you  say: 
"Let  me  have  memoirs  grave  or  gay." 

"Pis  gratitude  should  make  you  bind 

A  sheaf  from  all  that  you  have  seen; 
And  when  a  neighbor's  tale  you  broach, 
That  fear  may  be  without  reproach 

The  unnamed  stars  *  *  *  can  shine  between, 


The  Petition  was  signed  by: 

President  and  Mrs.  Roosevelt. 

Mrs.  Richard  Aldrich. 

Miss  Grace  Bigelow. 

Miss  Eleanor  Blodgett. 

Miss  Helen  Dunham. 

Colonel  and  Mrs.  Archibald  Hopkins. 

Miss  Gertrude  Livingston  Hoyt. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Morris  K.  Jesup. 

Mrs.  James  Lowndes. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  H.  Fail-field  Osbora. 

Mr.  Arthur  Jeffrey  Parsons. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  E.  Parsons. 

Miss  Mary  Parsons. 

Miss  Louisa  Lee  Schuyler. 

Miss  Georgina  Schuyler. 

Miss  Emily  Tuckerman. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  George  W.  Vanderbilt. 

Miss  Maude  K.  Wetmore. 

1907. 


DATE  DUE 


CAYLORD 


PRINTED  IN  U    S    A 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A    000  501  295    o 


